


kingdom come

by kozuchaan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spirits, Anxiety, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, Spirits, basically this is like 60k words of kuroken brainrot what can i say, comission, inspired by "hotarobi no mori e", it’s 40k words ik, i’m too lazy to delete it i’d rather just type it out again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kozuchaan/pseuds/kozuchaan
Summary: Kuroo is a spirit that Kenma cannot touch. And as he grows older, Kenma discovers how far he’d be willing to go for a boy who he’s never felt under his own hands.Human or not, love forms and breaks and finds its way again.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 35
Kudos: 49





	kingdom come

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, izzie for trusting and comissioning me this piece. it's my first time writing, so hope it's worth it :)
> 
> shout out to bibi for helping me edit <3
> 
> ps. i researched japanese honorifics and names, etc, quite a lot but yk. it was only google. so let me know of any mistakes and ill change them!

**The Ninth Year**

* * *

All Kenma wanted to do was find a cool stick. 

He gets a bit more than he’s bargained for, however. 

He’s got his stick, sure, but he’s also lost in the middle of an impossibly wide forest that he can’t find his way out of. 

Which is always fun.

Kenma’s in the middle of trying to find his way out, but he can tell he’s getting more lost with every step he takes. Plus, he’s tripping a lot (no thanks to the tears dripping down his face like nobody’s business), and the desperation to somehow escape this fucking maze of trees and shrubs is gnawing at him like a physical ache. 

He cries out for help a lot, hoping that by some miracle, a passerby will hear the calls of a desperate nine-year-old boy with a ratty old stick trying to find his way back home. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort happens. 

And then, it somehow gets worse.

Kenma trips over the millionth root while frantically running around, and veers down a small slope. He’s unable to keep his grip on the stick, and he lets go in fear that he might accidentally impale himself on it (a smart move on his part, because the sharp end of it goes flying into the shrubs nearby and bounces around like it’s _trying_ to kill something). The old brambles on the forest floor dig and bite into his exposed shins, scraping at his skin like it’s out for his blood. Kenma manages to keep his face covered, but by the time he’s finished rolling down the hill, everything hurts to the point where he might as well just have left them by his sides. 

“Ow,” Kenma whimpers quietly, unable to move anything without feeling sharp aches and pains all over. The most significant burn comes from his right leg, and when he looks down, Kenma nearly passes out at the sight of a four-inch gash that runs ragged down his calf. 

For fuck’s sake. 

This summer is just _not_ the fucking move. Is he allowed to blame his parents for this? Whatever. Kenma’s going to blame his parents for this. 

“Do you need help?”

Kenma nearly shits his pants. 

That wasn’t him talking. 

“H-hello?” Kenma whispers, scared of the voice that just spoke. Is he hearing things? Did he not protect his head as well as he could have? Maybe the fear inside of him is causing him to hallucinate. Maybe - 

“Yeah, up here!”

Kenma counts to three before sucking in a deep breath and turning his neck up so he can see who’s calling out to him. 

It’s - 

It’s certainly not the serial killer he was expecting. 

“Hi, are you okay? I just saw you fall. I was going to warn you, but I guess I was too slow. Sorry about that.”

Kenma blinks. 

There’s a _child_ , who can’t _possibly_ be older than he is, sitting on top of a branch way too high up for him to be able to reach without a ladder. His hair sticks up and down and out to the side like he’s been electrocuted, and the outfit he dons is a traditional red yukata (strange, because it’s not even festival season yet), complete with a thick black ribbon that acts as a belt. 

It’s so out of place that Kenma can’t even _question_ it - there’s nothing that he could ask to appease his terrified curiosity. 

“Um, do you not understand me?” The kid drops himself to the floor, landing lightly on his feet like he just hopped down a single step instead of what was at _least_ four solid meters. “Is your mouth hurt? Why aren’t you answering?”

Kenma freezes, wishing he had his stick right about now. (Because “stranger danger” and all that.)

“W-who, u-uh, w-who,” Kenma stops and forces himself to get over the stutter. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kuroo! What about you?”

“No! N-no, I meant, what are you going here? O-on that tree?”

Kuroo giggles. “Um, I don’t know. Same as you, I guess. Having fun.”

Kenma wipes away his tears with a muddy hand, annoyed when he feels dirt streak across his cheek. “Fun? I almost just _died_ . This isn’t _fun_.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Kuroo doesn’t look sorry at all. “Anyways, I’ve never seen you around here, and I know _all_ the spirits.”

Kenma blinks again, but this time, it’s so he has something to do while processing what Kuroo just said. 

“Y-you, you know all the _what_ now?”

“Uh, the _spirits_ ,” Kuroo says back, as if this is just common knowledge. “Are you new? Kai-sama didn’t say anything about making any more, though.”

“ _Kai-sama_?”

“Y-yeah, you know,” Kuroo’s words start to slow down, and his brows furrow together in a way that indicates his sudden discomfort. “He makes all of us?”

“That’s a really creepy way to refer to your dad.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“Can we talk about your family later? I really need to get home.”

Kuroo frowns, but nods his head nonetheless. 

_Great. This guy is probably my only way out and he’s delusional_ , Kenma groans internally. 

“Yeah. Is anything broken?”

Besides Kenma’s fucking ego? 

Nope. Probably not. A lot of shit hurts, though, if that counts for anything. 

“I think I’m good.”

“Okay, just climb up and I’ll lead you back home.”

Kenma slowly gets himself to stand up, but he’s forced to pause every couple of seconds due to the waves of nausea that roll through him. His stomach feels like it’s been sucker punched from multiple angles, and his knees knock together like a newborn deer trying to walk for the first time. 

“Thanks,” Kenma mutters under his breath, struggling to stand through the ache in his legs once he’s climbed up the hill he just swan-dove off of. “I just have to get to the forest entrance. Near the village.”

Kuroo’s light smile twists into a grimace of horror, which leads to Kenma briefly wondering if maybe his head started to split into two or something. He touches his cheek, just to make sure he isn’t _actually_ turning into a monster.

“Y-you’re -” Kuroo’s hand slaps his mouth shut for a couple of seconds, before he drops it and backs up in what seems to be _horror_ . “The village? You’re a _human_?”

Kenma stares at Kuroo like he’s gone fucking _crazy_ , which honestly doesn’t seem far from the truth. 

“Uh? Yes? Aren’t we all?”

Kuroo stumbles backwards again. 

“W-wait, so you’re from the human village down there?”

“I guess? I don’t know where _down there_ is, but yeah.”

“L-look, I can help you get home, but you can’t touch me, okay? No matter _what_.”

“Okay? I wasn’t planning on it.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. If a human touches a spirit, they’ll die forever! Even their soul stops reincarnating, so you can’t touch me, okay?”

Yeah. 

Kuroo’s fucking crazy. 

“Did you eat something funny? Are you really calling yourself a spirit right now? Do you expect me to _believe_ that?”

Maybe if Kenma hadn’t just swam up to his neck in dirt down a hill that had _no business_ being that steep, he would’ve been able to find the humor in Kuroo’s somewhat realistic acting. But with his own blood smeared all over himself and his stupid stick (the thing that started this whole fucking mess) missing somewhere, he’s not in the mood to go along with a joke this bad.

Kuroo frowns even deeper than before, and his eyes darken in what is _probably_ anger, but Kenma can’t be too sure since Kuroo’s hair kind of casts a shadow over his face anyways. 

“This is a spirit forest. So it makes sense that I’m one.”

“Oh, my god, you still believe in fairy ta-” Kenma clasps his hands together and purses his lips together in a thin line. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

Kuroo squats and balls his fists up, pushing his tongue out in concentration. 

Kenma can’t help but pray that Kuroo isn’t trying to _shit on the forest floor_ right now. 

“ _Hngh_ ,” Kuroo lets out. “Oh, _come on!_ ”

Kenma takes a couple of steps backwards and holds his hands out to force distance between him and Kuroo. “Uh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I believe in spirits, you’re right, they’re real. So um, can you bring me back now? I, uh, you can use the bathroom at Ojiichan’s place, it’s clean. I’m sorry, I -”

“ _There_!”

Kuroo jumps up with a pop, and comes down with a giddy grin painted on his face. 

Kenma freezes. 

_Wow,_ he thinks. _Wow, I’m really losing it, aren’t I? I must’ve hit my head on a rock or something, or maybe I scratched myself against a poisonous berry. Wait, maybe I’m already dead and Kuroo’s just my guide to the afterlife. Because -_

Because Kuroo has cat ears and a fucking _tail_. 

Both newfound appendages are inky black, and the ears kind of mix in with his hair but the insides that face Kenma are pink, so they’re kind of hard to ignore once Kenma spots them. The tail isn’t as understated - it’s long and snakes around Kuroo’s waist like it has a life of its own. 

“Do you believe me now?” Kuroo says, puffing his chest out triumphantly. “Look at what I can do! Cool, right?”

Kenma rubs his eyes with the clean part of his hands, over and over again until his eyelids sting. 

This isn’t happening. 

Kenma isn’t lost in some _spirit forest_ , and Kuroo doesn’t have _cat parts_ sticking out of him. 

“H-how?” Kenma’s voice is barely above a whisper, but Kuroo’s ears (it looks strange, since he still has his human ones) twitch like they can hear the question. 

“I don’t know. I told you, Kai-sama makes us.”

“Is he a spirit, too?”

“More like a river god.”

“I wanna go home, please.”

“Okay! But um, I wasn’t supposed to tell any humans about this, so keep it a secret, okay?”

Kenma’s a thousand percent sure that if he started telling the people in town about a strange little cat-human hybrid child/spirit that lived in the woods behind his grandfather’s house, he’d be sent to a mental institution for some evaluation. 

But he nods, even if it’s just to appease Kuroo’s worried expression. 

“Yeah, I won’t.”

“Cool, thanks! Also, what’s your name? I told you mine but you didn’t tell me yours.”

“Uh, I’m Kozume. But you can just call me Kenma.”

“Oh wow, you have two names?”

“Most humans do.”

“Lucky. I wish I had two.”

“Well,” Kenma starts following Kuroo, who’s walking down a path that doesn’t seem to exist. “If you bring me back to the village, I’ll give you one more.”

Kuroo laughs, and it echoes around the trees and air like a bouncing ball. 

“Promise?”

“I guess.”

“Wanna come back tomorrow? I’ll show you the river I was born from.”

“I don’t feel like getting lost again. And my leg hurts.”

“Please? I’ll wait for you by the pillars, so you won’t get lost.”

“Maybe.”

“Please, Kenma please, please!”

“Ugh, shut up! Okay, I get it, I’ll come!”

“Aw, yes!”

-

-

Kenma decides that he’d rather lose the ability to walk than to be stuck by Kuroo’s side for more than two minutes straight. 

There isn’t an off switch on him, and it’s like the less enthusiastic Kenma answers a question, the more Kuroo takes that as a challenge to get a response. The inquiries about humans had been endless, but Kenma’s not really old enough to have an explanation for everything. 

He’s only nine, for crying out loud. 

He finds out a lot about Kuroo, though, like the fact that he’s ten years old, he loves grilled fish, and he manifests as a cat spirit. When he’s older, he’ll be able to fully transform, but Kuroo’s got to make do with the ears and tail for now. 

Kenma tells him he likes apple pie, video games, and playing volleyball with his friend Akaashi in return, unable to think of anything that could top “turning into a cat”. 

Kenma’s grandfather is upset with the cut, though, so his exhaustion grows tenfold when he has to make up a story about scratching his leg on the fence post. It’s wiped and cleaned right away, and Kenma yowls as rubbing alcohol meets his wound. 

“Ken-chan, when I said you could play outside, I thought I mentioned not going past the pillars. What were you thinking?”

Kenma rolls onto his stomach underneath the blankets piled on him (it may be summer, but he can’t seem to fall asleep without the weight of comforters over his body) and groans. “I promise I won’t do it again. Ojiichan, I want to sleep.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, boy,” Ojiichan says with a grumble. But he complies by turning the lights off. “Don’t do anything stupid tomorow, or I’m going to start bringing you along to Nekomata-san’s place.”

“No, Inuoka is so _annoying_ , please don’t!”

Kenma falls asleep quickly that night, ignoring the muffled scolding of his Ojiichan. (Apparently, it’s rude to call Inuoka that.)

Thinking about whether or not he wants to go back to see Kuroo exhausts him even more. There’s still a tiny little part of him that thinks this is all some kind of elaborate ruse planted in his mind due to the panic he had felt while lost, but he also realizes that he wouldn’t be able to explain getting out of the forest without help. 

It’s preemptive, but Kenma swears to himself that he’s going to stay put.

Something about Kuroo feels dangerous, like it’s going to come back and bite him in the butt one day. 

  
  


-

-

Kenma doesn’t understand why he thought he could stay away from the forest the next day. It’s a heavy promise that Kenma had made, and it’s one that he can’t keep. Although his brain kept screaming at him to just _stay home_ , Kenma’s body had a mind of its own and changed him into outdoor clothes (with an extra roll of gauze in his pocket just in case) in no time. 

He’s flying out the back door and down the dirt path towards the forest the minute Ojiichan leaves for his daily old-people-game-day thing with Nekomata-san, breath rough in his throat as he runs. 

Kuroo’s standing there just like he promised, smiling brightly under the shade of trees. The heat begins to make Kenma’s skin itch, and he can feel his pulse still pumping rapidly after he’s stopped moving. His neck throbs with the beat of his heart, and Kenma can feel his legs start to give out. (The cut on his leg isn’t exactly healed, either.)

“You made it, Kenma! Yay, yay, now I get to show you the river!”

Kenma sucks in a pant (should he be worried with how out of breath he is?) and doubles over. “W-wait, let me just - let me c-catch my b-breath. _Ugh_.”

“Kenma, are you okay? Is it your leg?”

“No, I’m okay,” Kenma straightens up and scratches at his collar. There’s actually a more specific reason why he came today, but it’s embarrassing to admit all of a sudden. “Um, I have something for you.”

“What is it?” Kuroo jumps up and down with glee. “A gift? I’m so excited!”

“It’s a name.”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, I said I’d give you one if you helped me out the forest. And you did, so.”

“Well, what is it?”

“ _Tetsurou_.”

“Tetsurou,” Kuroo repeats carefully, letting the syllables roll off of his tongue. His eyes dance around, and Kenma _swears_ the ends of his spiked hair stick up even more. “I like it. Thank you, Kenma.”

“S-shut up,” Kenma bites out, surprised with how emotionally Kuroo responds. “I’m still calling you Kuroo.”

“That’s fine by me! C’mon, we have to go to the river today, okay?”

“Yeah.”

-

-

It’s definitely Kenma’s fault for thinking they could make it to Kuroo’s mystery river without any issues. 

Because Kuroo’s a spirit. 

That in itself promises bad news. 

Today, the hurdle presents itself in the form of a bratty little fox that yips too loudly and attempts to follow them all over the place, no matter how much Kuroo begs the piss-colored animal to go away. 

“Sumu-sama, _please_ , go away! I wanna hang out with Kenma today!”

(It would be a lie if Kenma said he didn’t feel a burst of arrogant pride fill his chest when Kuroo said he wanted to be _alone_ with Kenma. Because that puts him above this stupid fucking _dog_.)

“Aw, is Kuroo-chan getting shy on me?”

The fox lets out another ugly laugh (it’s worse than Kuroo’s) before leaning back on its hind paws. The front ones come up and the fox licks at his claws delicately, eyes never leaving the young duo. 

“No, I’m not! Just go away, I’m trying to show Kenma the river!”

The fox immediately drops low, stretching himself out on the floor and yawning widely. Kenma feels like the glint of sharp teeth is directed at him somehow, and it seems like his suspicions are confirmed when there’s an added glare.

“So you think this _human_ of yours deserves to see Kai-sama’s river?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“You know very well that the river is sacred ground. No _ordinary_ human should be setting foot on its banks.”

“Well, he has just as much a right to go visit it as _yours_ does.”

The fox sneers and with a whip of its tail, he transforms into his human body. 

Kenma stumbles backwards a bit, surprised by the sudden shift. The maroon yukata he wears looks fitting against his tawny skin, a bit darker in comparison to Kuroo’s pure red one. His hair is the same color as the coat of his fox form had been - a washed out yellow with dark brown roots that barely show.

The fox’s human form is much older than he thought, too - at least a teenager on the brink of adulthood. Or maybe he is an adult; it’s not like Kenma can tell the difference. (In another sense, he can rule out “ _crush_ ” as his reason for the fox chasing after Kuroo so intently, which makes him feel a bit better.)

“Atsumu, don’t go around bothering Kuroo and his friend,” a voice says from behind Kenma. “You need to start leaving these poor kids alone.”

It’s a human. (Or at least, Kenma thinks he is. The black-haired stranger isn’t wearing the robe that seems to signify the spirits; dressed in a linen shirt and white pants with no shoes instead.)

“Omi-Omi!” Atsumu shrieks, clearly happy at the arrival of this new man. “Well, I mean, since _you’re_ here now, I guess I don’t have to bother Kuroo-chan anymore.”

_Omi-Omi_ stands up with a scowl on his face and side steps a fake hug. “Ku-chan,” he says with a softer voice. “Who’s your friend?”

Kuroo smiles and points to Kenma. “He’s the one I said I met yesterday, the human. Kenma, this is Sakusa-san. He’s like you.”

Kenma blinks. It takes him awhile for him to realize that Kuroo’s talking about Sakusa-san being _human_. 

“Oh,” Kenma whispers, suddenly shy in front of another person. It’s like someone else is in on a secret that he thought was his. “H-hello, Sakusa-san.”

A gentle hand reaches out and pats Kenma’s head, thumb moving over his hair in a soothing motion. Kenma squeezes his hands into fists before looking up from under his lashes, watching carefully as Sakusa-san smiles at him. 

Sakusa-san crouches down into a squat to get himself eye level with Kenma. 

“How old are you, Kenma-kun?”

Kenma holds out nine fingers. “I-I’m nine.”

Sakusa-san smiles again. “You know, I think I was about your age when I first came here.”

“R-really? How long has it been?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We can give or take fifteen years.”

Kenma does the math in his head. About twenty-six, then. He looks younger than that, though, so it throws Kenma off guard.

“Did you meet Atsu-sama here?” Kenma asks, kind of forgetting what the fox spirit’s name was. 

“Yeah,” Sakusa-san lets out a breathy laugh and stands back up. “I met Atsumu-sama here. He looks young, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Kenma nods. “Sakusa-san, do you live in the village, too?”

Sakusa-san silently holds out his hand and Kenma gets the gesture to take it. The older man also nods his head towards Kuroo and Atsumu-sama, like he’s secretly signalling them to do something. They start walking, with Kenma still holding Sakusa-san’s hand with his own. 

“I live in the forest. I moved here when I was eighteen.”

“Wh-what? You can do that?”

“You need a spirit guide to walk through this forest alive, Kenma-kun, so make sure you don’t lose Ku-chan, okay? Atsumu is mine. My guide, I mean.”

Kenma hears a hint of something more with the word “ _mine_ ”, but can’t really explain it. So he drops it for later. 

“Why’d you move here? Don’t you miss the people at home?”

“They were very mean to me, Kenma-kun. I used to be sick. Not physically, but I was very bad with people. I had a terrible fear of germs, and that’s hard when you’re a little kid. Right?”

Kenma nods faithfully. “Right.”

“So one day, I didn’t want to go to the doctor’s office for treatment. Everyone was acting like I was crazy, but what’s so wrong about wanting to be clean? I ran away from home that day, all the way into this forest. I got lost, and Atsumu found me. I feel _clean_ in this forest with him.”

“But you can’t touch him, right?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Do you want to?”

Sakusa-san laughs with his head tilted all the way back, lips pulled apart tauntly in a bright grin. His eyes crinkle up and shine like a million stars are trying to burst through his irises, and Kenma briefly wonders what’s so funny about what he asked. 

“I’ll let you think about that one. C’mon, they’re almost ahead of us, we should walk faster. Wouldn’t want them to beat us, you know?”

-

-

The river bank is absolutely gorgeous. Kenma blames his short years on earth for being able to find better words to describe it - 

_Gorgeous_ isn’t enough. 

The green flush of grass that stretches so far until Kenma can’t see past the mountains in the distance is impossibly vivid, burning its hue into Kenma’s eyes. Kuroo tells him to take his shoes and socks off, and when he puts his bare foot on the grass, he nearly hoots with joy. 

It’s so perfectly _soft_ , and he understands why Sakusa-san doesn’t wear shoes. 

The blades of grass tickle the soles of his feet with every step, like tiny little kisses that thank him for walking. Flowers of every shade and variation sprout up all over the place; they’re hidden in shrubs, in between the scarce trees (they had decreased in number the closer they got to the river), and even along the moss blankets that formed over huge rocks. 

The river itself is just. 

Breathtaking. 

Kenma wishes he was a hundred years old, so he could have a century’s worth of vocabulary to try and describe the scene. He’s sure he wouldn’t be able to, but dear god. He’d like to try. 

The river flows from a hidden source (maybe the mountains ahead), and keeps going into the distance. It’s wide - at least thirty feet across, but it’s gentle and bubbles with water so clear Kenma can see the bottom. Atsumu-sama proudly states that it’s where every spirit is born, and Kenma can’t help but feel a pang of childish jealousy when he realizes that Kuroo came from something so impossibly _perfect_. 

Koi fish and underwater vegetation move along the bottom of the river, slow and languid and never rushed. 

“Are we allowed to go into the river?” Kenma asks, eyes wide in hope. 

Kuroo laughs. “It’s way too deep, Kenma! You can stick your feet in, but if you try standing, you’d drown. It just _looks_ shallow.”

Kenma smiles, happy with the response. He takes a seat next to Sakusa-san and carefully puts his feet into the river, sighing when the water molds itself around his ankles and cools him down. Sakusa-san rolls up his pants legs and does the same, leaning back on his palms and letting the sun stream down his face. 

“Kenma, are you happy that you came?” Kuroo takes a seat on the other side of Kenma, bending his knees up to his chest and looking at Kenma imploringly. 

How could Kuroo think that Kenma would be anything less than ecstatic? 

“Yes. I am,” Kenma says. “Thank you. Can I come back tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Kuroo flops down onto his back, giggling happily when a purple butterfly flutters above his head and dips around in loose circles. 

The unfiltered stream of sunlight in his eyes is blinding, and so is Kuroo’s smile. 

-

-

Kenma’s ninth summer is spent like that. 

Every day, after his grandfather leaves for his daily visit to Nekomata-san, he makes a beeline to get changed before running down to the two pillars at the forest’s entrance. Kuroo’s always waiting there for him, sometimes with Sakusa-san, sometimes with Atsumu-sama. 

But nothing good ever lasts for long, and Kenma’s mother returns from Tokyo in the blink of an eye. 

The divorce must be final. 

“Ken-chan,” his mother says carefully. “We need to head back tomorrow, so please pack your bags for me, okay? I need to talk to Ojiichan for a bit, so keep yourself busy. We leave at eight tomorrow morning.”

Should Kenma care about the fact that his mother just came back for the first time in two months, is divorced, will make him choose between his parents, and all he wants to do is find Kuroo (and the other two) so he can say goodbye? 

Who knows. 

What Kenma _does_ know, is that he’s running down the dirt path that’s too familiar, until he reaches the entrance. 

Kuroo’s there, along with Sakusa-san and Astumu-sama today. 

“Hey, Ken-”

“Kuroo!” Kenma cuts him off, breath ragged from the running. God, how is he still not in shape? “Kuroo, Saku-san, Sumu-sama, I, I have to tell you something!”

And with that, Kenma stumbles onto his knees and starts crying. 

Sakusa-san dives for him in an instant, picking him up gently. Kenma wraps his legs around Sakusa-san’s waist and buries his head into the man’s shoulders, sobbing for what seems to be an eternity. 

Sakusa-san pats his back softly the whole time, murmuring quiet words into Kenma’s ear. He can’t tell what’s being said to him, but it’s comforting nonetheless. 

Once Kenma’s crying dies down a bit, Kuroo tugs at Atsumu-sama’s robe with worried eyes. 

Atsumu-sama seems to take the hint. “Ken-chan, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Kenma shoves his face back into Sakusa-san’s shoulder and sniffles. “Okaasan came back.” 

The fox spirit winces. “Uh, do you not like her?”

Kenma can practically feel the murderous energy of Sakusa-san’s glare. 

“No, but it means I have to go back to Tokyo. I wanna stay, I wanna stay! Can’t you keep me here? Please?”

Sakusa-san sighs. “Ken-chan, we’d love to have you, but you would have to wait until you’re an adult. Will you come back to visit next year, or is this your last time?”

“I can ask kaasan to come back next summer, but then I’d have to live with her and not Otousan.”

“Ken-chan, you shouldn’t base your decision on us.”

Kuroo stomps his foot at Sakusa-san. “No, he should! Kenma, you have to come back, okay, ple - ow!”

Atsumu-sama gives the back of Kuroo’s head a light slap with a _tsk_ of his tongue. 

Kuroo glares, but doesn’t respond. 

Kenma’s set down on the floor again, and he stands shakily. “I’m going to come back. So you can’t forget me, okay? You have to promise to remember me, because I’ll be back!” 

“Air promise?”

Kuroo holds his hand out in the form of a pinky-promise, and Kenma does the same. They’re unable to touch, so doing “air” versions of things has been their thing lately. 

“Air promise.”

Kenma cries for some more, unable to keep the new swell of tears at bay. Crying that intensely turns out to be pretty exhausting, however, and Kenma’s asleep against Sakusa-san’s shoulder before he knows it. 

When he wakes up, it’s time for Tokyo. 

-

-

Kenma is nine years old when he makes himself a new spirit friend. He guesses that, at the end of the day, a human label doesn't really matter. 

-

-

* * *

**The Tenth Year**

Kenma turns a year older with the change of seasons, and it means the start of a new school year. It also means the first year of his life without his dad by his side, and it’s a strange feeling to know that he _willing_ gave up staying with his favorite parent (a loose term; it’s not like either one was attentive or loving) for a couple of spirits and an old man (who he’d like to clarify as Sakusa-san). 

It’s hell. Not being able to forget himself and lose his inhibitions whenever he wants in the forest is a surprising discomfort in his life, and Kenma has to deal with Akaashi getting pushier with volleyball, too. 

The two of them are walking hand in hand to school (normally, Kenma would vehemently deny the skin-on-skin contact, but Akaashi had cried when Kenma returned so he feels a little bad), while Akaashi is prattling on about some older senior at the volleyball camp he had gone to over the summer. 

“Kenma, you just _don’t get it_ , he was _flying_. Like, I just - I want to set to him. I want him to be the one to spike my serves, I wanna watch him fly in front of me.”

Kenma, to be completely honest, doesn’t really know who Akaashi’s talking about, but nods with false sympathy. “Sorry to hear that, ‘Kaashi.”

“What’re you sorry about? I didn’t say anything bad.”

“Uh?” Kenma blinks, realizing that he was just caught not paying attention. “Oh, you know. Since you can’t see this guy or whatever.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on Kenma’s palm. “You weren’t listening, right?”

“I - I was!”

“Then what’s his name?”

“Who’s?”

“The _person I’m talking about_?”

“Kuto. Kato? Tarou?”

Akaashi sighs. “ _Bokuto_.”

“Well, his name is stupid.”

“ _You’re_ stupid.”

Kenma laughs. “Hey, take that back!”

“No, take back your thing first!”

“No, you!”

“No, _you_!”

-

-

Kenma is not a fan of talkative people. 

Kuroo’s different, though, so it’s okay. 

This kid, however, is pointedly _not_ Kuroo, so it’s _not_ okay. 

“So, you’re Kozume?”

Kenma bites down on his sandwich and tries not to kick this stupid fucking loudass guy’s shin. 

“Yup,” Kenma answers blandly. “But call me Kenma.”

“Cool, cool, I’m Lev. Lev Haiba. Or uh, Haiba Lev. Right?”

Kenma gives the silver-haired kid a look that says, _why’re you asking me how to pronounce your own name, you dumbfuck_?

It doesn’t seem to translate. 

Akaashi clears his throat and takes a little sip of water from his water bottle. “Lev, you’re from Russia, right?”

_Crap_. 

Whenever Akaashi starts _mediating_ , it means he wants Kenma to make a new friend. 

And it seems like he’s aware that Lev isn’t the type of kid that Kenma’s going to like right away, if at all.

“Yup! But I moved when I was two, so I don’t know any russian. Plus, my parents speak japanese with me. Cool, right? Right?”

“Right,” Kenma says, hoping to cut Lev’s sentence off as quickly as he can. 

“So, are we friends now?” Lev fidgets around in his seat, hands flying all over his lunchbox as he shovels food into his mouth like there’s no tomorrow. 

Akaashi smiles. “Yeah!”

Kenma can’t seem to swallow the lump of food sitting in his mouth properly. “S-sure.”

“Yes!”

The way he just barges into Kenma’s life is similar to someone else. 

Kenma doesn’t think about it too much. 

-

-

Kenma meets Bokuto one day at the gym while helping Akaashi practice. 

He doesn’t really take away anything from their meeting, besides the fact that Bokuto is one talkative motherfucker. 

-

-

  
  


Kenma hadn’t expected Lev to assimilate so well with him and Akaashi, but only a few weeks need to pass before Lev’s begging for a sleepover on a random Saturday night. 

Kenma kind of thinks that it’ll be fun, so he agrees and asks his mom if he can host it. She had happily agreed, cooing something about her son finally opening up and getting more friendly with others.

Lev and Akaashi arrive within fifteen minute intervals of each other and have thrown their pajamas on in no time. 

“Ken-chan,” Kenma’s mother calls from the kitchen. Kenma pauses the TV show they’ve thrown up on the screen, before waiting for her to make her way to him. “I have to step out for an emergency meeting with Director Yamada. I’ll be back in two hours, but you boys stay here and have fun, okay? No opening the door under any circumstances, and _stay away from the stove_. I’ll order you pizza when I get back.”

Kenma nods and waves goodbye, while Lev makes a show of dramatically bowing like he’s sending a god off. Akaashi’s familiar enough to just settle for a quick bend of his neck, murmuring something polite under his breath. 

It’s not even thirty seconds since the front door has been closed when Lev grabs onto Kenma’s arm and stares him in the eyes with the intensity of a thousand (green) suns. 

“Kenma, Kenma, you know what we should do?”

Kenma’s stomach twists with anxiety. This can’t be anything good. “Wh-what should we do?”

He throws Akaashi a look, but gets nothing helpful. 

“We should bake some cookies! My sister taught me how to do it yesterday, you know! She made them and they tasted like chocolate!”

“Stupid, we can’t make cookies, my mom _literally_ just said we couldn’t use the stove!”

“Well, we can just use the microwave!”

Akaashi finally butts in. “Lev, that sounds like fun, but you just said your sister did it. So technically, you don’t know how to bake. I think we should just ask Kenma’s mother for some dessert when she gets back.”

Lev frowns, and the pain from not being able to get permission to try and bake cookies is drawn clearly on his face. 

Kenma’s honest-to-god scared that the tall freak of nature is going to cry, so he tries to appease him with a simple, “I got new games on my nintendo. Wanna play Mario Kart while we wait for the pizza?”

Lev nods his head slowly, clearly still upset. 

Somehow, a moping Lev seems worse than a crying one, so under the societal pressure that comes with sleepovers with other ten-year-olds, Kenma folds like a deck of cards. 

“F-fine, Lev, you can show us what to do. We still can’t use the stove, so we can heat them up in the microwave until they cook through, okay?”

Kenma wonders when he got so _soft_ , but when Lev perks up and starts immediately smiling, his worry fades away for later. 

Akaashi gives Kenma a look, but the two of them follow Lev into the kitchen to start their baking adventures. 

-

-

  
  


Yeah. 

That doesn’t go so well. 

It’s not like Kenma knows what to do, and it seems like Akaashi is just as clueless. 

Neither of them are as bad as Lev, though. It’s obvious now that the cooking expedition has been announced in vain, because holy _shit_ , is this not going to go well. 

They’ve taken out the basic ingredients for whatever type of cookie Lev is trying to make (clearly not chocolate, seeing that Kenma had none in his pantries or fridge), and the counter is crowded with random bowls, a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, the glass container of flour, and other various white powdery substances that can’t be good. 

Lev singlehandedly decides that he’ll be in charge of the measurements, allowing no room for argument on Kenma’s part. Akaashi doesn’t fight it, if the resigned look on his face is anything to go by. 

“Akaashi, pass me the flour, please!” Lev exclaims, standing tall and proud on the kitchen chair pushed up against the counter. Lev’s tall, but not tall enough to be able to freely reach for things on top of it, hence the added stool. “And Kenma, uh, pour about three cups of milk out.”

“Three cups?” Kenma asks, wrinkling his nose. That seems like an awful lot of milk. “Are you sure?”

Lev nods his head hurriedly and grabs the bowl of flour that Akaashi hands him. “Yeah, yeah, trust me, I know what I’m doing. My sister taught me, and she’s the best teacher ever.”

Akaashi brushes the stray flour off his shirt and smiles. “I’m sure these’ll turn out great. Kenma, can I look through the fridge again? I think I saw something that could help us.”

Kenma shrugs. “No reason to stop now, I guess.”

Kenma grabs a teacup out of the dishwasher and another small bowl, and starts measuring the milk out. 

It’s not that much milk, actually. 

He hands Lev the bowl of milk and watches as the liquid gets thrown haphazardly into the concoction Lev has going on. The butter, milk, and flour are clumping together in a seriously ugly way - there’s no way this is going to turn out into a nice dough. 

“Guys, I found it! We have matcha powder to flavor the cookies!”

Akaashi holds up an unopened bag of matcha powder and Kenma gives him a thumbs up. 

“Great!” Lev says, already holding his hands out so Akaashi can pass the bag to him. “Kenma, can we use this?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Lev cheers and rips the top open, spitting when the powder erupts all over him and starts raining down on the floor in green bursts. 

Fuck. 

That’s going to be a bitch to clean up. 

Lev peers inside the bag once the dust has cleared up, purses his lips, and then promptly dumps everything out into the bowl. 

The dough isn’t forming. 

Lev snaps his fingers. “Kenma, get me more milk. _Ten_ cups this time.”

Kenma sighs and reaches for his teacup. “Whatever you say, _boss_.”

-

-

So, in hindsight, maybe Kenma and Akaashi should’ve argued a _little_ bit harder when Lev made himself captain. 

But they’re in too deep now (plus, food is fun to throw around) so they give in to Lev’s laughter. 

The three of them managed to finish up the “dough” in record time, giving up after Lev dumped the matcha powder in. They had taken turns tossing in whatever else felt right. Akaashi went for the eggs, Kenma went for some water, and Lev threw in something that Kenma couldn’t see properly. The mixing bowl is sitting off in the corner of the counter, while the kids run around the kitchen with egg-slimed fingers and flour dusting just about every inch of their clothes. 

“Guys, guys!” Lev yells, holding his hands up to create a makeshift shield. “Stop, we need to form the cookies now!”

“No way!” Akaashi shrieks, vindictively reaching out to coat the side of Lev’s face in some more egg white. “You started it, you were the one who got the powder all over the floor!”

After a couple more minutes of “tag” and getting the floors even messier than they were before, the three of them decide it’s best they start blasting the dough with healthy doses of microwave-produced heat. 

The shapes that the cookies are molded into aren’t anything to write home about. There’s also more egg shell pieces than what is probably edible, and it’s only halfway through making them into circles that Akaashi realizes they never washed the raw egg juices off their hands. 

“Whatever, the heat’s going to kill the germs anyways,” Lev says with a shrug of his shoulders. He goes back to forming whatever it is he’s trying to form - Kenma guesses that it’s either a person or a very disformed animal. 

Akaashi’s eyes nearly roll back into his head and Kenma gets ready to call the police just in case his friend drops dead. “Lev, still! Do you know how dirty this is!”

Lev makes his stupid kicked-puppy face again. “S-so, you don’t want to make the cookies anymore?”

Akaashi looks torn between rational logic and Lev’s weird ability to make people feel bad about having a shred of sensible judgement. 

The latter wins and Akaashi sighs. “No, of course we want to make the cookies. Sorry. Kenma, grab a plate so we can heat these up.”

The cookies are placed in the microwave in no time, and Lev doesn’t waste a breath stabbing the _5_ on screen to indicate that the cookies should rotate for five minutes. 

It’s not a long wait, but Kenma starts leginitely worrying for his life. 

_What if I die?_

_What if these cookies kill me?_

_Can that happen?_

_God, I hope it doesn’t_. 

Kenma also starts thinking about how fucking _gross_ it feels to be in clothes right now, covered in almost every single ingredient that went into the cookies. (Milk is hard to utilize as a weapon, it turns out.)

“Guys,” Kenma groans as he starts slipping out of his shirt. “We need to change, take your clothes off so I don’t get this stuff in my room.”

It’s not really weird for them to change in front of each other, since, well, kids who are ten usually aren’t concerned with much when it comes to doing things in front of their friends. 

But Lev makes it weird. 

He takes his pants off, too, complaining about how it feels like there’s flour in his butt.

“Seriously, guys, I think it got in my underwear! Can’t I just take it off?”

“No,” Akaashi scolds. “There’s a difference between us not wearing shirts and you being _naked_. The underwear stays on.”

“Aw, man!” Lev squirms but thankfully obeys. 

The microwave finally fucking beeps and Kenma wraps a towel around his hand before removing the plate. 

The cookies look - 

Well, they look really poisonous. 

There are little bumps everywhere, and the bright green of the matcha has turned into some kind of shrek-vomit color - plus the _smell_ is just pure burnt sugar. 

Lev, however, doesn’t seem to notice how the splotches (really, it’s an offense to all baked treats to call these things _cookies_ ) look like they could kill and doesn’t hesitate to grab one off the plate. 

“Oh, it’s kind of hot,” Lev notes. He takes a hesitant bite out of one end. 

“Well, how is it?” Kenma asks, dreading having to eat one himself. 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really, uh. It doesn’t really taste like anything?” Lev swallows his bite. “Why aren’t you guys trying one?”

Kenma spares Akaashi a small look before taking one and nibbling at the corner. 

It tastes like what week-old bird shit must taste like. 

But Lev is happily eating another bite, so everyone’s forced to continue and stomach pure ass-flavored amorphous blobs of dough. 

“I’m full,” Kenma says after he’s shoved the first cookie down. “Thanks, Lev. They tasted pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Akaashi nods in agreement. “Definitely. You did a good job.”

Lev grins. “Thanks, guys!” He slides off the stool and points to the living room. “Hey, we should watch a scary movie tonight! Akaashi, can we do that? We should do that!”

Akaashi gives Lev a wild look and puts his hands up in the air. “You realize this is Kenma’s house, right?”

Lev’s head turns at breakneck speeds to stare Kenma down. 

It’s a silent battle for a couple of seconds but Kenma already knows he’s going to lose. 

“Fine. But nothing horrible, okay?”

“Cool, that’s fine! I know this really cool American film and it looks so fun!”

It’s only now that Kenma realizes that Lev talks exclusively with exclamation points, and his head hurts with the idea that Lev’s going to be this loud throughout the night. 

_Huh_ , Kenma thinks. _That’s not the only thing that hurts_. 

There’s a slow ache that crawls through his abdomen all of a sudden, and Kenma grabs his stomach in an effort to stop a sharp pang that follows. 

Akaashi gives Kenma a funny look. “You okay, Kenma?”

“Um, yeah,” Kenma says. His breath is shaky, and he struggles to stay upright. “M-my, um, my stomach hurts a little bit.”

“You should sit down, Kenma. Or do you want to call your mom?”

“No, her meetings are important,” Kenma feels another ripple of pain soar through his stomach and Akaashi’s by his side in seconds. Kenma feels so _exposed_ , and it’s not because they’ve all taken their shirts off earlier. “Can you guys come with me?”

“Of course!” Lev says way too loudly. Kenma winces. “We should change our pants, though! There’s egg all over yours.”

“He’s right,” Akaashi says as he grips Kenma’s hand. “Can we get our bags from your room? I’ll grab you a new set of pajamas from the dresser, too.”

Kenma just nods and drags his feet on over to the couch, dropping himself with a small thud. He trusts that Akaashi won’t make a mess - he’s been over enough that he’s practically memorized the layout of Kenma’s room. 

Lev’s still bounding around and singing something about Super Rangers (the purple one’s theme song, to be exact), hopping on his feet and swinging his arms as he belts out the words in an incredibly loud and off tune sort of way. 

It’s cut short by a little yelp. 

“Ow!” Lev screams, jerking his arms out and doubling over. “Ow, ow, ow!”

Kenma closes his eyes. “What happened?”

“M-my stomach! Ow, ow! Make it stop, make it stop!”

Kenma sits up a bit. “Wait, yours hurts too?”

“It stings!” Lev says with another cry. “Make it stop! Please!”

Kenma puts his palm over his naked stomach and flops his head back when it seems to twist itself up inside of him. “Does it feel like hot needles or something?”

Lev just nods, still grabbing his midsection with tight fingers. 

Another thought strikes Kenma. “Lev, if this is happening to the both of us, what about Akaashi? He’s by himself in my room.”

Akaashi, as if cued by magic, flies down not a second later with clothing pieces trailing from his arms and tears streaking down his face. “Sorry, Kenma! I-I, I don’t know what’s wrong but the same thing’s happening to me,” Akaashi’s briefly interrupted by a howl from Lev, who’s thrown himself onto the wooden floor so he can have an easier time thrashing about. “I think it’s the cookies, guys, we put so much stuff in it, and, and we didn’t even use the oven to bake them! What if we ate too many raw eggs?”

Kenma shakes his head, feeling a cold sweat break out over his forehead and back. He presses his naked skin as much as he can onto the leather seat, trying to cool himself down. “That doesn’t make any sense, we only had one each. It shouldn’t be hurting our stomachs this fast.”

Akaashi whimpers but gives Kenma a look that says he agrees. “I-I’m, I’m going to look through the kitchen and see what we put in it.”

Akaashi takes off as fast as he can with a cramp in his side, and he rubs at his face on his way into the warzone. Lev’s still happily throwing himself around, writhing his body against the floor and screaming something about the stomach monster. 

There’s a clatter from the kitchen and Kenma feels something tighten in his stomach - this time, out of fear. “A-Akaashi? What’s wrong!”

“ _Lev!_ ”

Akaashi’s shriek is ear-splitting. 

Lev freezes his overdramatic interpretational full-body dance and sits up. “Y-yeah?” 

“ _Lev,_ you get in here _right now!_ ”

Kenma’s eyes go wide and he follows Lev into the kitchen, and the pain in his stomach momentarily takes a backseat. 

“What’s wrong?” Kenma breathes out, wondering what’s gotten Akaashi in such a twist. 

“Lev’s wrong, is what’s wrong! His brain is wrong! You put this in here, didn’t you? I _knew_ this was a bad idea!” Akaashi thrusts an open black plastic bottle that Kenma doesn’t recognize over to Lev, who takes it with a confused look. “This was on the counter next to the baking bowl, and I know I didn’t put it in, and I know Kenma wouldn’t have, so it has to be you! What the heck!”

Lev takes a step back. “Hey, why’re you so mad? It’s just chocolate!”

Kenma tilts his head. “Chocolate? But we don’t have chocolate in this h- oh, Lev! Are you _kidding me_?”

Kenma yanks the bottle out of Lev’s hand and holds it up. 

“Why’re you guys so mad?” Lev demands, green eyes scrunching up in utter disbelief. 

“Did you bother to read the label?”

“It just said chocolate,” Lev mutters quietly. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s chocolate laxative,” Kenma grits out, already scared of the answer to the question he’s about to ask. “Are you kidding me? How much of this did you put in?”

“What’s the big deal about a lax-tive? And, I don’t know, like four or five I guess. I wanted it to taste like chocolate, since we put so much matcha in.”

“It’s a _laxative_ , and it is a big deal! This makes you use the bathroom but you’re not supposed to have more than half a scoop at once! And you put half the bottle in!”

The color in Lev’s already-pale face drains and he’s left looking like a stickly, mostly-naked ghost in the middle of Kenma’s flour-covered kitchen. “So, what does that mean?”

Kenma doubles over when another wave of contractions hits his stomachs and he looks up under his lashes with a glare. “It _means_ we’re going to have to use the bathroom.”

It’s not long before the three of them are racing throughout the house, leaving footprints made of flour and matcha powder with clothes left sprawled all over the place, desperate to find their own toilet. 

Akaashi zooms to the one in Kenma’s room. Nice choice. The child-proof seat cover that he never remembered to take down a couple of years ago is still up, so at least he’ll be pooping on a fun, cartoon train-covered seat.

Lev’s shoved into the one down the hall of the living room. He’s the only one tall enough to sit comfortably on the slightly larger toilet anyways, so no one thinks twice about it. Kenma has to hold himself back from throwing a tube of toothpaste at him when Lev starts complaining that there’s no fun toilet cover, though.

Kenma himself locks himself into the master bedroom’s bathroom, shoving aside his mother’s stray clothes and products. A particularly heavy-scented _mango jungle mist_ perfume clatters to the floor, but Kenma’s too busy trying not to blow his brains out (a relevant metaphor in more ways than one) to care about the breaking bottle. 

Except he _does care_ , because now this _mango jungle mist_ is starting to fume up the small space with an extremely toxic concentration, and the scent doesn’t mix well. 

Kenma twists himself to the side and slams his forehead down on the kitchen sink right by him. 

Fuck. 

He’s never talking to Lev again. 

  
  


-

-

This summer is the first summer back to his grandfather’s place, which leaves Kenma’s body trembling in anticipation for the whole week before it. He just has to get through this train ride, and he’s there.

Kenma presses his hands against the window, watching as the scenery flies by his eyes. His breath fogs up the glass, and the train shivers on the track underneath him, making him vibrate in his seat. 

“Ken-chan,” his mother says with a bit of admonishment in her voice. “The window’s dirty, don’t touch it. Give me your hands so I can wipe them down.”

“I can do it myself, you know.”

Kenma’s mother sighs but hands over the packet of wet wipes. Kenma takes one out and cleans off his hands, eyes still glued on the vision of neverending grass in front of him. 

“Are you excited to see Ojiichan again?”

“Yeah.”

“Be good, alright? You did good in school this year, so I’m letting you stay with him.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay.”

His mother gives up with the conversation after Kenma’s brief answers, and goes back to scrolling through the news on her phone. Kenma closes his eyes and decides he needs to do something to stop the jitters in his stomach, so he forces himself to take a nap. 

It doesn’t work at first, but he’s knocked out within minutes. 

-

-

The slight breeze that whistles softly through the air cards itself into Kenma’s hair, and sends a chill down his spine as he runs around the dirt path. He’s committed every inch of it to memory last summer, and it seems that his body remembers. The open sleeves he’s wearing does nothing to help the nighttime cold, but Kenma doesn’t care. He just keeps running, running, running, until his knees start stinging with the impact of each step. 

Just needs to get to the forest. 

Just needs to find Kuroo again. 

It’s not long until Kenma reaches the forest’s entrance. He takes a deep breath before jumping past the line that separates it from the “human” side, and immediately takes off. 

The setting sun isn’t really helpful when it comes to illuminating his path, but Kenma tries his best to not trip on anything. 

If he gets lost, Kuroo is going to find him. 

His idea is simple. 

There’s no guarantee it’ll work, though, but something inside of him says it will. 

Well, if it doesn’t, then Kenma’s going to be left in the forest to die (maybe that’s just him being dramatic), so he prays that it does. 

“You know, you don’t have to run so much, Kenma,” Kenma freezes when someone’s voice gets carried to his ears; it’s soft and thick and Kenma doesn’t want to turn around just yet. “I could’ve just found you at the entrance.”

Kenma spins around on his feet and blinks when he meets eyes with Kuroo. He’s greeted with a small smile, but Kuroo’s eyes shine brighter than the brilliance of the sunset overhead. 

The only thing that Kenma can hear for a solid minute is the rush of blood in his ears, the heavy thudding of his heartbeat, and the slight buzzing of insects around them. The tips of his fingers feel fuzzy, like they’re slowly being squeezed by something. 

“Well?” Kuroo smooths down his classic red yukata and fidgets with his fingers, clearly waiting for Kenma to say something. “Are you just going to stand and stare? Should I dance?”

“Kuroo,” Kenma breathes. He can’t seem to form any proper train of thought. “I came back today.”

“You came back,” Kuroo agrees, nodding playfully. “Are you staying for the summer again?”

“Yeah.”

“D-do, um, do you wanna go see the stars by the riverbank? Sakusa-san can bring you back home if it’s too dark.”

“I’d like that.”

That’s it. 

The familiarity that Kenma was missing. 

It’s back. 

_Who is Kuroo, to me?_

Kenma thinks about it while he starts his trek. Kuroo’s smile deepens and Kenma follows him down an invisible road, making sure to take high steps so he doesn’t trip over any stray roots like before. 

After a stretch of small talk, Kenma decides that he doesn’t really know. 

A spirit he can’t touch?

A friend? 

A fellow adventurer? 

A figment of his imagination?

It hurts Kenma’s head to dwell on, so he simply _doesn’t_. There’s nothing to focus on besides Kuroo’s body in front of him, leading the way.

Kuroo’s back has widened just a bit, and Kenma’s grown a little taller but they’re still the same. 

Well, whatever _“same”_ was before, anyways. 

-

-

Kenma is ten years old when he gets the first pang of what insecurity feels like, but can’t really tell where it’s coming from. It’s a scary thing, to not know. 

* * *

**The Eleventh Year**   
  


Sixth grade is really fucking stupid, or at least, that’s what Kenma decides after the first couple of weeks of school. 

Summer flew by again, in a million shades of green and blue and orange and whatever else he saw, and now he’s back in class for a new school year. And Akaashi starts taking this _compulsory studies_ thing way too seriously, which means Kenma’s forced to accompany him to the library a couple times a week so he doesn’t lose his only friend. (Lev exists solely to depress Kenma - they _aren’t_ friends. Kenma swears it. He’d go feral if someone tried to hurt the gangly giant, but no, they aren’t friends. Truly. Really.)

Akaashi and Lev have also started to get a bit more serious about volleyball, and as a result, Kenma finds himself signed up for after-school volleyball lessons on five days a week. 

He has half a mind to kill this coach. 

“ _Bend your knees, damnit!_ ”

Kenma winces as the old guy blows his whistle with breathtaking ferocity and wonders how his eyes haven’t popped out yet. 

“ _Kozume-kun! I was talking to you!_ ”

How every word is more emphasized than the last, Kenma doesn’t know. 

“Yes, Takahashi-san.”

Kenma resist the urge to roll his eyes and bends his knees a bit and holds his arms out in receiving formation, waiting for a ball to come flying at him so he can try to pass it off to someone. 

It comes within seconds, and Kenma hits it off-kilter so it goes flying to the left. 

Perfect. 

It’s out of bounds. 

Takahashi-san stomps his foot and blows his whistle again, before calling for a time out. 

“I’m going to kill you, ‘Kaashi,“ Kenma hisses to his friend as he grabs his water bottle. “I can’t believe you made me sign up for this class. I hate Taka-san and his stupid hairline and face and fat stomach. Bend my legs? Could _he_ even do that?”

Akaashi smiles and takes a drink of his own water. “I didn’t make you do it, Lev did.”

“But you put the idea in his head, so I get to blame you,” Kenma argues back. “Whatever. I don’t get why he’s trying to make me play libero for everything. I can only set. Well, not as good as you, but still.”

“Kenma, you’re an amazing setter and you know that you can read people better than I can, which is useful because learning how to strategize is important. You just never told Coach that you’re a setter because you don’t want him to put the spotlight on you.”

“That’s not true,” Kenma insists, but by the whine edging in his voice, anyone could tell that yeah, it’s true. “I’ll tell him later, you’ll see.”

Akaashi just finishes off his water bottle and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Sure, sure.”

-

-

Nothing particularly interesting happens this year, besides the fact that Lev has grown astronomically annoying, and taller. Which is fucking stupid, because he’s like, _eleven_ , so his bones should just shut up and stay still for a little bit. 

_There must be some kind of correlation between the amount that Kenma wants to kill him off like a secondary character and how much longer Lev is getting_ , Kenma deducts. _It’s the only way to explain how he just gets worse with time_. 

Lev’s particularly loud today on the walk home, jostling his elbows against Kenma’s side with every other step he takes. It’s fine at first - Kenma’s used to his clumsiness by now. But there’s only so much of the physical contact he can take before he bristles and loses it. 

“ _Lev_ , just walk straight, are you kidding me?” Kenma scoffs and readjusts his bag, which has been knocked loose from his shoulder. “It’s not that hard, you just need to follow the sidewalk! Why do you always act like you’re a child, can’t you control your body? It _hurts_ whenever your stupid bones hit me, you’re like an overgrown stick!”

Lev shrinks up, stopping his animated gestures and eyes skittering down to the ground. Akaashi’s expression turns funny and gives Kenma a look that says _cool it_ , except _why should he_ , when it’s Lev who keeps bumping into him? 

“S-sorry, Kenma! I-I, I didn’t realize I was hitting you. Are you okay?”

Lev reaches a skinny arm out like he’s going to try and do something about it, but Kenma just avoids the touch and flicks his head down so his hair falls into his eyes. “Shut up, stupid. I’m going home first. You can go to practice without me.”

Akaashi opens his mouth to say something, but Kenma’s already stomping down the sidewalk towards home. 

He’s not too sure why he’s acting so irrational today; it’s not like it’s the first time Lev’s been bothering him (whether he’s aware of it or not), but something’s driving him crazy. 

Kenma scratches the back of his neck. 

He’ll just sleep it off later tonight, or something. It’s probably just school stress. 

Well, as much stress as an eleven year old kid can have, anyways. 

-

-

Whatever it was that was making Kenma on edge a couple of weeks ago, only proves to get worse as time passes. 

It’s been a couple of weeks and more and more things start rubbing him the wrong way. 

First, it’s the way his mother arranges the plates in the kitchen cabinets. The order of flowers painted onto the plates had been wrong - there’s no explanation for what the correct order _should_ be, since they’re _flowers_ , but Kenma spends about four hours on a Saturday night taking every single dish out of the kitchen and organizing them until the itch at the back of his head goes away. His mother had been checking up on him throughout his rearranging, quietly asking repeatedly what it was that he was doing. 

_“I don’t know, I’m just going to fix the plates.”_

_“Ken-chan, don’t you have homework?”_

_“I need to do this first.”_

_“The plates aren’t important right now. What’s wrong?”_

_“Just let me do this first!”_

_“Alright, Kenma. Finish your work after, okay?”_

The conversation had been dropped before it turned into an argument, and Kenma turned back to his plates. 

The second time had been when he had gone home on Friday and changed into pajamas so he could take a nap. Except, his shirt just felt wrong on his skin. It prickled, even though it was soft to the touch. No matter how many shirts he went through, they gripped his skin too tight. He had given up with trying to find a proper one and went to bed close to tears, only calming down when he decided his blanket felt fine against his bare chest and back. 

Kenma still wasn’t on speaking terms with Lev. After blowing up on him irrationally three weeks ago, he started to avoid him like the plague. Kenma _wanted_ to apologize - he _knew_ that he should, but every time he tried to muster the courage to say sorry, it’s like the words got stuck on his tongue and melted away before he could go through with it. 

Now, Akaashi’s over the awkward air that hangs between the three of them like a curtain and Kenma’s facing Lev at the library tables, feet swinging slowly underneath his chair. 

Lev is uncharacteristically quiet, and Kenma doesn’t know whether he should attribute it to the fact that they’re in a library right now, or because he’s still kind of scared of Kenma. 

“You guys, I don’t like this,” Akaashi starts. “We should make up and move on.”

Kenma’s throat closes up. “I-I, um, L-ev, it’s -”

“I’m sorry, Kenma!” Lev says a bit too loudly, interrupting Kenma’s unforming sentence. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like when people get too close to you, and I kept hitting your arm. That was my bad.”

Kenma’s chest hurts. 

Lev’s eyes say that he’s completely forgiven Kenma, and that he truly believes it’s his fault that Kenma had gotten so angry that day. Akaashi stays silent. 

Kenma twists his fingers together under the table and closes his eyes. It’s a bit easier when he can’t see the absolute innocence that fills Lev’s eyes. 

“No, you shouldn’t be the one apologzing,” Kenma whispers. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. The sidewalk is narrow, anyways. It’s not like we had the room to move. I just - stuff has been annoying me and my bag falling just made me mad because I couldn’t get mad at other things. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Akaashi taps Kenma’s ankle with his foot and Kenma turns to face him. There’s a small grin on his face. _He’s clearly pleased to have mediated such a successful make-up_. 

Lev laughs quietly. “It’s fine. Are we friends again?”

Kenma looks at the hopeful expression that Lev wears unabashedly and rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like I stopped in the first place.”

Lev squeals with joy and Kenma can’t help but let out a breath when the knot in his stomach unravels, even if it’s for a little bit. 

-

-

“ _Mama,_ ” Kenma whimpers quietly, trying to find purchase on his mother’s hand underneath the mountain of blankets he’s piled up around himself. He squirms and writhes around, unable to settle into his bed comfortably. The sweat pooling in the crevices of his collarbones and spine is no joke either, making him scratch at his shirt with his free hand to try and tear it off of him. “ _Mama, I feel sick_.”

“Kaasan is here,” she whispers back, gently rubbing a soft finger across his cheek before pushing the hair off of Kenma’s forehead. She smells like comfort and disdain at the same time, but it’s not that _she’s_ the one disgusted - rather, it’s Kenma that tries to shut the smell out. “Mama’s here, baby, you have to stay still or else I can’t take your temperature.”

Kenma forces himself to still long enough so that the thermometer gets inserted into his ear safely, but nearly throws up at the feeling of the plastic cover touching his eardrum. His fingers are digging into his mother’s arm at this point, then letting go, then squeezing again. 

Her skin feels wrong underneath his hands. 

_Fake_?

Kenma doesn’t know how to explain it, but it’s just _not right_. 

“Ken-chan, look at me, please,” his mother says. Kenma blinks himself back to focus but shields his eyes from the brightness of his room lights. “You don’t have a fever, baby, you’re not sick. What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt? Headache? Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“N-no, no, _no_ ,” Kenma wails. He finally claws the blankets off of himself and feels some sort of reprieve when the open air cools his skin down, but that’s not it. He wants his shirt off, and he wants it off _now_ . “I-I, I’m sorry mama, I don’t know! I don’t know, I feel sick, I don’t _know_!”

The worry in his mom’s eyes is as clear as day and Kenma wants to explain _so badly_ what's wrong with him, but he literally cannot conjure up the words to explain it. 

Everything is just too much, always. 

The fabric of his clothing. 

The scent of his mother’s perfume. 

The smoothness of his kitchen plates. 

The lines of the wooden floor panels. 

The ridges of sewn-together leather that make up the couch. 

“Kenma,” His mother cooes gently. “We’re going to go to the doctor’s office, okay? We can go now. Let’s see what’s wrong together, okay? I just need you to get dressed, baby, and we’ll be out. You want to feel better, right?”

Kenma nods harshly. “Y-yes, please.”

“Mama’s here, Ken-chan. Just stay with me, promise?”

“Promise.”

-

-

“After a full diagnosis, it seems that Kenma-kun is simply experiencing sensory overloads.”

Kenma’s kicked out of the room after this phrase, waiting in the hall with a nurse by his side. Her blue scrubs are annoyingly clean and Kenma wants to tear the mouth of this director guy. 

_It’s my problem_ , Kenma thinks _, so why shouldn’t I hear it?_

The curiosity gets to him and he gets as close as he can to the door without having to actually press his ear up against it. Thankfully, it’s thin as all hell and the conversation inside is fully audible, albeit quiet. 

“Kenma-kun, please step away from the door, that’s a private co-”

Kenma musters up every ounce of terror in his tiny little frame and glares daggers at the nurse approaching him, and she quickly seems to realize that Kenma is ready to cause a scene if he gets pulled away. 

Kenma goes back to the conversation. 

“So what does that mean?” It’s his mother. 

“Well, it’s not a sensory disorder. He doesn’t show any other symptoms besides this discomfort when it comes to touches and certain sounds, but for the past hour, I’ve been talking to him, and, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m fairly certain that there is some kind of underlying anxiety disorder present within Kenma. Whether he recognizes it as anxiety or not, he’s been highly stressed for the past year or so and has been experiencing the sensory overloads that come with anxiety sometimes. He’s young, which is why he probably doesn’t know how to cope with it well, and is releasing some of that pent up frustration through these little breakdowns. I am not a psychiatrist or any sort of behavioral development specialist, so I’ll have to refer you to one, but it’s my simple guess for now. Are you sure he hasn’t been presenting any other symptoms?”

“N-no, that can’t be, he’s j-just, he’s only eleven!”

“You should be well aware of how young children can experience these types of feelings. I’m not saying I’m right. But it’s a very high possibility. Now, again, has there been any other symptoms?”

“I,” Kaasan’s voice is quieter all of a sudden. “To be honest, I’m busy with my job during the day. I only really see him at dinnertime and, well, he’s old enough to get ready for bed. I usually just slip in to tell him goodnight. S-so, I haven’t really been able to see how he's doing outside of those nighttime hours.”

“So nothing comes to mind? Anything like nausea, or maybe irrational behaviors, just overall fatigue? Maybe he cries a lot? Has he been acting differently in any sort of way? Surely you can think of something.”

It’s silent for a while. 

Kenma’s heart thuds to the floor. He’s not exactly sure what _anxiety_ is, because all he knows it as is a fancy term for “being nervous”. 

But there’s something wrong with him now? 

“I thought it was just volleyball.”

His mama finally speaks. 

“I’m sorry?” Mr. Director asks. 

“I mean, he plays volleyball. Five days a week. I thought it was just natural for him to be tired. And you know, he’s not the strongest boy, so I thought maybe the exercise was making his stomach act up. I-I, and, well, besides earlier today, I don’t think I’ve ever caught him crying. But then, there was that whole _plate_ thing, but I thought he just wanted to help me organize or something. Oh, oh my _goodness_ , oh my god, has - has Kenma - has my _baby_ been suffering all this time and I haven’t noticed it? W-what does that make me? I, I, I’m his mother! I should’ve noticed! My baby Kenma, he, h-he was fine with the divorce. He took it so _well_ , he, he didn’t even really seem to be all that sad when his dad left, oh, but then again he wasn’t exactly jumping up and down to be with me. H-have, is this, have I been neglecting him? Is this what it is? I didn’t do this, did I? I didn’t! What if I did? I did, didn’t I! I should’ve just taken a break from work. Should’ve stayed with him. Should I have been more attentive? O-oh, what kind of question is that! I _know_ I haven’t, but, dear god, is it too late now? He’s already eleven, he’s already growing up! No, no, he’s, I, there’s time to fix this, right?”

Kenma feels his heart tighten up like someone’s twisting chains around it. 

He didn’t mean for his mom to feel like this. 

They don’t exactly have the closest relationship, but she makes sure he’s alright every night before turning in herself. Always makes him his three meals, lets him sign up for whatever classes he wants, lets him run around with his friends before homework gets finished. Smiles at him. Shows up to school events for him. Lets him stay with his grandfather. Gave up a Christmas so Kenma could visit his dad. 

This is his fault. 

This is Kenma’s fault. 

_I did that_ , Kenma tells himself when he hears the soft sobs of his mother through the door. _That was me_. 

He’s ruining this. 

Ruining her. 

_How do I fix myself?_

-

-

  
  


Kenma takes a long time to adjust. 

Learning to cope with the mess inside of his brain is exhausting, and having to constantly talk to someone about it wears him out. Doctor Ishii is kind enough, but still. It’s hardly fair to expect him to just ramble on about himself to a stranger. 

He doesn’t even know _what_ it is that makes him uncomfortable. 

It’s not like he’s pressured into doing anything, or forced to do things he doesn’t want to. Akaashi and Lev are constants by his side. His mother isn’t overzealous when it comes to his newfound treatment. 

In theory, he should be improving. 

But the gray area inside of his head just gets worse and worse and worse until he feels absolutely drained of every emotion he’s capable of forming besides _tiredness_. 

_It’ll get better soon._

_It’ll get better soon._

_It’ll get better soon._

_It’ll get better soon_. 

The mantra never stops playing in Kenma’s head. 

It mocks him. 

_It’ll get better soon._

_It’ll get better soon._

_It’ll get better soon._

_Hurry up._

  
  


-

-

Kenma blinks the sun out of his eyes and leans back onto his elbows, letting his hair sprawl around his head like a halo on the grass he’s lying on. His nose itches a bit, but he’s too lazy to scratch at it. 

Kuroo’s humming some kind of ancient melody underneath his breath while weaving flower crowns out of the flowers he’s picked on his way here. Kenma’s waiting for his wreath to be finished - he chose a bundle of baby’s breath stalks and a couple of strange blue flowers he doesn’t recognize. 

It’s been a full month since he’s arrived again, and Kenma seems to grow lazier with every passing day. 

It’s nice to forget. 

He doesn’t have a mother he’s stressing out, school things to deal with, or friends to please. As much as he loves Akaashi ( _not_ Lev, because Lev is stupid - but don’t call him that because it’s not fair), there had been a handful of times in the last year that Kenma truly contemplated just distancing himself from the two. 

All of his worldly worries are gone now, so he can enjoy the passing summer without a thought in his head. 

It’s supposed to be fine. 

This forest is his haven. 

But. 

_But_. 

Something just feels wrong. 

_Again?_ Kenma holds back a sigh; he doesn’t want Kuroo asking him what’s wrong. _I thought I got better_. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma says quietly. “Do you think we’ll see Sakusa-san soon?”

“Uh, maybe,” Kuroo replies. Kenma opens up his eyes to see what Kuroo’s doing, and finds the spirit sticking his tongue out in utter concentration as he weaves his flowers together. His fingers move clumsily, but Kenma is surprised to see an actual pattern take its form. “He’s out with Atsumu-sama today.”

“What’s your favorite animal, Kuroo?”

Kenma’s strangely desperate all of a sudden to keep this conversation going. It feels like if they stop, he’ll make it awkward somehow. 

Kuroo stops his braiding and looks at Kenma with a funny expression. 

“Cats?”

“Favorite color?” Kenma presses. 

“Red.”

“Favorite flower?”

“Trumpet lilies, you know, the ones that grow in the willow groves I showed you last year?”

“I remember,“ Kenma whispers. 

“Kenma, are you okay? You’re acting strange.”

“Strange how?”

“I don’t know, you’re asking me such random questions.”

“I just want to talk.”

“Yeah, but you never talk.”

“Is it annoying? I could stop.”

Kuroo blinks and Kenma stares right back. 

“N-no, I didn’t mean that. I’m just surprised. But, in a good way. Ask me whatever you want.”

“Can they be spirit questions?”

“Of course!”

“Do you like it?”

“Like what, Kenma?”

“Do you like being one. A spirit, I mean.”

“Never in the summer,” Kuroo smiles and goes back to his flower crowns. “I love being one in the winter and fall and spring. But then you come back every summer and I don’t even get to touch you so that’s unfair. I wish I were human right now.”

Kenma feels an indescribable emotion roll through his stomach. 

_God_ , he thinks. _Why can’t I just be normal back at home_?

“But humans are so dumb. I’m dumb. We’re all dumb.”

“Don’t say that, Kenma! You’re not dumb! Are you okay?”

Kenma closes his eyes again and sinks as far as he can into the ground, feeling the blades of grass tickle the sides of his neck. He _swears_ a couple of tendrils wrap around his fingers for a brief second before curling back up into their original shapes. 

“Everyone keeps telling me I’m sick, Kuroo. Not my body. They think my head is messed up. And it hurts. Everything hurts and nothing hurts and I don’t even know what hurts.”

“Why do they think you’re broken, Kenma?”

“Because I get nervous a lot.”

Kuroo stays quiet for a moment, and his hesitation hangs in the air like a tangible object. Kenma can feel the trepidation wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. 

Is Kuroo going to think he’s weird? 

“Is that why you’ve been asking for Sakusa-san lately?”

Kenma bolts up. 

_Was he that obvious?_

“What? What does that even mean?”

Kuroo’s eyes stay frozen on him. “You know that people thought his head was sick, too. Do you have questions for him?”

“N-no, I don’t! Shut, ugh, _shut up!_ ”

“I didn’t say anything about it.”

“You were going to.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“That’s not the point.”

It’s silent again for a while. 

Kenma’s not sure what Kuroo’s asking. 

_Trust him?_

He already _does_ , more than anyone else in his life. 

“Kenma, ask me anything you want about spirits.”

Kenma can tell that Kuroo’s trying to create a distraction for him, even if Kuroo doesn’t really understand _why_ Kenma needs one. 

“Can spirits feel things?”

“Yeah, we can touch whatever we want as long as it’s not a human. But um,” Kuroo tilts his head and his hair falls to the other side of his face. “You knew that already.”

Kenma lets out a little laugh and stretches his arms out. “I meant emotions.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. I get happy and sad and whatever, just like you do.”

“What about love?”

Kuroo looks like a vein is about to pop inside of him - he’s quiet for a bit while he searches for an answer, but he can’t seem to come up with one. 

“Probably?” Kuroo drops the flower crown he’s working on by his side and shrugs. “I think so. Atsumu-sama said he loves Sakusa-san.”

“So they’re dating?”

“What’s dating?”

“I don’t know, like, when two humans like each other so they. Date? Like, they’re together. Romantically. I guess?”

“So are _we_ dating?”

Kenma jolts to his feet like a cat that’s been waterboarded and practically screeches out a harsh, “No, of course not!”

“W-why not! You just said two people who like each other are dating!”

“Y-yeah, but we’re friends! Romantic means you kiss each other, dummy!”

“Ah,” Kuroo says, like he suddenly understands the concept of _togetherness_. “So if I were human, we would be dating?”

“No, it’s not a friendship, Kuroo! I-I, I don’t really know how to explain it but it’s basically what Sakusa-san and Atsumu-sama are doing!”

“Wait, so then so are we! They can’t touch each other to kiss, either!”

“Okay, enough of this. Dating isn’t just - do you even know what kissing is? It’s not just kissing, Kuroo, you’re supposed - I, it’s, oh, I don’t know. I mean, you seem to understand what love is but I guess there wouldn’t really be dating amongst spirits.”

Kuroo seems just as confused as ever but drops the conversation and goes back to his flower crowns. Kenma tentatively lies back down and listens to the chirping of birds around him and the gentle swaying of trees.

“Don’t I love you?”

Kenma turns over onto his stomach and gives Kuroo a weird look. “What’re you talking about now?”

“Spirits have the same emotions as humans, you know. How we show it may be different but feelings are still feelings. As long as I want to protect you, and keep seeing you, isn’t that the same as love? If that’s what Atsumu-sama and Sakusa-san have, why is it different for us?”

“Kuroo, they’re adults.”

“So we just have to wait until we’re adults to date?”

“What is wrong with you? We aren’t going to date! I - you don’t even know what dating is!”

“Well, you’re really bad at explaining it,” Kuroo grumbles. “By the way, I can sense Atsumu-sama nearby so he should be coming with Sakusa-san soon.”

“You can sense him? Does that mean you can sense other spirits, too?”

“Well yeah, but only the ones created by the same spirit as me. Atsumu-sama was also born from Kai-sama’s river, which is why we have a connection. But if he were created by Yaku-san’s hands, then I wouldn’t be able to.”

“How old is Atsumu-sama, anyways? I remember Sakusa-san said he chose to look younger when I first met him, but does that mean he actually is young?”

Kuroo giggles. “No, no, spirits are technically able to change their human appearances to any age they want. He likes to look like he’s twenty, but he’s closer to a whole century.”

“W-wait, so does that mean you’re not twelve?”

“What? No, I really am. But I guess I could change my appearance to look older or younger if I wanted. It’s just that, we’re spirits so we have no need to physically age at a set rate. To be honest, I turned myself into what I would look like as a human teen almost as soon as I was born, but when I found you that day, I felt like you’d feel weird with some random older guy trying to help you so I made myself match your age.”

“So does that mean you can turn yourself to look older, but you would still think and act like an twelve year old?”

“Huh?”

“You talk like me. Like a kid.”

“Oh, that? Well, yeah, you’re right, I guess. Mentally, we just take on the age of our form. Hey, wanna see what I look like as a teen? I kind of like it!”

Kenma shakes his head quickly. 

That would - 

That would be weird. 

“No, don’t do that.”

“Aw, why not! Am I ugly?”

“What? No! I just, I'll turn sixteen or something eventually. Just keep growing up with me. It’s creepy.”

“Alright, alright. Oh, wait, I hear someone coming!”

Two little cat ears pop out of the top of Kuroo’s head and twitch around like he’s trying to figure out what direction the supposed noises are coming from. Kenma hears nothing. 

“Is it Atsumu-sama and Sakusa-san?”

“Yeah, I can hear Sakusa-san’s footsteps! Oh, and, uh, I smell berries, too! They must’ve gone to the fields.”

“Kuroo?”

“Yes, Kenma? Do you need something?”

“You just stepped on your flower crowns.”

-

-

Kenma, Sakusa-san, and Atsumu-sama spend a full three hours that night trying to calm down Kuroo. 

He only shuts up when Atsumu-sama delicately (read: _not_ delicately) shoves a freshly baked tart into Kuroo’s weeping mouth. 

-

-

  
  


Kenma’s hair is growing too long. 

“You’re going to look like a girl at this rate, Kenma! It’s almost touching your shoulders.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” Kenma mutters, shoving his hair back out of self-consciousness. 

“Why, it’s pretty! I wish my hair were longer. Well, I guess I could make it grow.”

“So do it, then.” Kenma’s still pissed at the “ _you look like a girl_ ” comment.

“I can’t. It takes up a lot of energy to change a part of my physical appearance, so I’d pass out before I could reach the length I want.”

“Then don’t complain,” Kenma snaps. 

“Wha-” Kuroo seems to finally realize that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“You said I looked like a _girl_.”

“But it was in a good way!”

“Do you wish that I was a girl?”

“What? No!”

“Ugh, _whatever_ ,” Kenma says, unable to get over the discomfort that piles up in his throat. 

“Guys, guys, let’s not tear each other apart quite yet,” A slow voice drawls in the background and Kenma can smell the pine scent that follows Atsumu-sama everywhere. “C’mon, Ken-chan, you know Ku-chan didn’t mean it that way. And you, Ku-chan, don’t go around calling people girls.”

Kenma crosses his arms but nods, just to get the stupid fox spirit to stop smiling at them. 

“Shut up, ‘Sumu,” Sakusa-san says with a smile as he takes a seat in the middle of the clearing. “Are you two busy today?”

Kenma shakes his head. “No. We already went to the willow grove yesterday so we were in the middle of figuring out what to do next.”

Sakusa-san grins warmly and holds his arms out. “Do you want me to tell you a story?”

Kenma dutifully crawls onto Sakusa-san’s lap, appreciating the wide chest he’s able to fall back on. Kuroo does the same with Atsumu-sama, except he does it the hard way and tackles the older spirit onto the ground before laughing and sitting up victoriously on his chest. 

It’s their way of pretending like they’re able to hold each other. 

It’s not the same, but, it’s not like it could be any better, either. 

“What’s it about?” Kenma asks, peering upwards to see Sakusa-san’s eyes crinkle up into happy crescents. 

“About spirits and humans.”

“ _Again?_ ” Kuroo fakes a groan and falls back onto Atsumu-sama, who’s currently rearranging his robe to make sure his _covered parts_ stay that way, with him splayed on his back like that. 

“Yes, _again_ ,” Sakusa-san says. “It’s nice, I promise.”

Kuroo rolls off of the fox spirit and lands on his stomach on the grass, placing his chin on a hand so he can prop himself up. “C’mon, tell it already!”

Atsumu-sama shifts into an orange fox with a loud yip and Kuroo curls up into the animal’s side. 

Kenma wants it to be like this forever. 

-

-

_“Long, long ago, in the mountains behind this ancient forest, lied a circle of incredibly lonely gods. They were so old, and so powerful, and so smart, that nothing they came across interested them. These gods, twelve of them, would watch the lives of a hundred thousand humans light up and die out like candles every year, and felt nothing in the slightest as their spirit sons and daughters melted away into nothingness before them. They could not create anything more powerful than themselves, and wished for nothing more than a way to leave this world behind. They knew there wouldn’t be a life cycle waiting to reincarnate them, but the more that time passed, the more desperate they became to leave in peace. There was nothing fun about living as a god._

_One of the loneliest gods was a beautiful woman named Ichika. And just like her name promised, she was more vivacious and gorgeous than a thousand flowers. Every step she took left a smattering of cherry blossoms underneath her feet, and her hair was so silky and long that it looked like black gossamer. Her skin was fine and unmarred, with her eyes so sharp they could kill with one look._

_Despite her beauty and even prettier heart, she remained one of the most isolated gods in the mountain. Gods don’t know what love is, as they don’t need it. But she watched as a lifetime of lovers walked past her share of the mountains, hand in hand._

_A pretty young girl with brown braids and simple pink kimono, accompanied by a youthful young boy who carried calligraphy brushes in his hand made Ichika blush. They were smiling and laughing - they had nothing, that much was clear, and yet the happiness they created with each other as they painted at the base of the mountains near the start of the river was nothing short of inspirational._

_A local lord’s son, dressed in fine clothes and shoes, had run into one of Ichika’s many mountain caves, breath bated and eyes desperate for something. Out of the shadows, stepped a merchant's son and together, they cried in silence. Ichika hadn’t understood what had happened, but it was obvious that she was not to interrupt. The two men had fallen asleep with their hands and fingers intertwined, and Ichika left them a trail of flowers to follow to the nearest free port where they could run away together._

_A maiden who had ornate wedding jewelry and make-up ran through the path of Ichika’s mountain one day - a strange sight, as she was in no state to sprint around. Her hair was wild, which was jarring against the powerful image she had going for herself. And right behind her, another woman dressed in a maid’s uniform had followed suit, begging that they leave together. Ichika had listened in secret as the bride screamed her heart out, pleading that she just be left alone, for she had to do this. The maid had pressed a gentle kiss into the bride’s forehead before leaving by herself. Ichika wept as she buried the maid later that night, and planted a special flower right on top of it before she went back to the mountain’s peak where her throne was._

_Over the countless stories and sights that Ichika had accrued, she determined that maybe, gods could learn from love, after all._

_It was not something she understood, but it was beautiful nonetheless._

_She watched as men and women came and by, hoping that one day, she could claim a person as her own lover._

_She didn’t have to wait long._

_Ichika had been in the middle of one of her open fields, dancing along with the deer that had followed her. The ends of her white dress ended up stained green, but she continued to move around with her arms stretched wide and smile impossibly brightly._

  
  


_“Are you human?”_

_A stranger’s voice interrupted her dancing and Ichika shyly turned around to face a man who couldn’t be older than twenty. Big eyes, wide shoulders, and clean robes draped over his wiry body._

_”My, that’s a strange thing to ask,” Ichika had responded. A pink flush filled her cheeks up nonetheless._

_“It’s just that, my lady, you are far too pretty, no, that word doesn’t do you justice. You’re utterly perfect. You can’t possibly be human, not like me. You must be a forest spirit, the ones I’ve read about! It really is the only explanation.”_

_“Well, I’ll give you credit for that guess, but take a step up. I’m the goddess of this stretch of mountain.”_

_“What’s your name?”_

_Ichika had replied with a breathless, rushed voice. “Ichika. And yours?”_

_“Haruto.”_

_“Why are you so far out, Haruto? These fields are very hard to reach.”_

_“I’m running away from home, my lady.”_

_“Call me Ichika, dear. I’m nothing special,” Ichika wrapped her shawl around herself a bit tighter, to try and embody a maiden’s shyness. “Why are you running away?”_

_“I want to find love for myself, Ichika. This life is too short for me to marry someone I don’t love. I want my own person. I want to be someone else’s own person.”_

_“Haruto, would it be strange for me to say that I love you?”_

_“I think it would.”_

_“Why’s that?”_

_“You’re a goddess.”_

_“Yes, that’s true.”_

_“And I’m just a man.”_

_“I have never loved before, Haruto. I would like to learn.”_

_“I haven’t, either.”_

_“Well,” Ichika smiled. “It wouldn’t be the worst to find out alongside you, I suppose.”_

_And so Ichika fell in love with Haruto at that moment, unaware of the road that would lie ahead._

  
  


_Gods were not supposed to love. It wasn’t within their capacities. They would be able to have anything they wanted in the world, but they would not understand love._

_Love was just utterly and inhumanely human._

_Flawed was something that a god was not, and love was full of it._

_Ichika proved to the circle of gods that this was untrue - it just took one special person to change their lives._

_It had been a tedious process to convince the other gods, but it had worked._

_The last god to approve was Sora._

_He had rampaged for seven months which means seven moons, unable to understand why such an all-powerful being would subject herself to the mercy of a mere human. A human, who could not comprehend the world as wisely as a god could. A human, who could not live for as long as a god could. A human, stupider, smaller, weaker, poorer, more, more, more, in all of the bad ways._

_Sora did not know what love was._

_But if he had to guess, it would be the feeling he got at the sight of Ichika and her ruby red lips and hazel eyes._

_The softness of her hands as she begged him to please, try and understand where she was coming from._

_The crystal tears in her eyes as she wept for Sora to accept what was going on._

_The fullness of her smile when he finally broke down and did._

_After the final approval went through, the other gods had the freedom to try and discover what this “love” was for themselves._

_Riku and Inei had fallen first, for each other. The god of the sky and the god of nighttime had dipped their hands together and each man whispered their goodbyes, before melting into the sky and leaving for their next journey. Ichika watched with a smile as they disappeared forever._

_Takibi, a god who provided safety for the mountain ranges, announced that he would be leaving with his new bride, Yua, the youngest goddess who ruled over the crops. Ichika had prayed for a safe life and the two of them went next._

_Ichika was quietly suffering, however, despite this new change she brought._

_The gods were falling in love with each other._

_She had fallen for a human, and Haruto’s mortality was a fact she had to face._

_Hence, she decided to go through a ritual that no god had ever gone through before -_

_A ritual to turn herself human._

_By turning her abilities into a physical object and then breaking it, she would be freed of her power and remain behind as a human. Haruto agreed, as he did not want to continue this life without his beloved._

  
  


_Ichika had been blind._

_They all had._

_As Ichikia screamed with the excruciating pain of losing her powers in front of the remaining gods, Haruto stood in front of her, waiting for her powers to leave her body and manifest as something._

_Ichika finally created her object - a shining gemstone that reflected every color to exist, and she fell onto her knees as a human._

_Haruto had smashed the gemstone onto the ground._

_And then he proceeded to pick up a shard and apologized as he drove it into the thin skin of Ichika’s throat before sliding it down further with one flick of his hand._

_Ichika may have been blind, but Haruto had been fatally wrong._

_He believed that killing a god would turn him into one, but as he watched Ichika bleed out across the marble floor of the ritual hall, he realized how mistaken he was._

_Aoi, the goddess of the rivers, had killed Haruto in a heartbeat. A mere clap of her shaking hands had brought an end to his measly life._

_Sora could do nothing but hold Ichika’s cold body in his arms as she continued to die before his eyes, slowly, too slowly, not fast enough, too fast, then too fast again, and then her hands had fallen limp and Sora realized this must be what love is - this painful, heartbreaking, sadistic mass he felt grow inside of him._

_“Sora,” Ichikia had panted through her blood-filled mouth. Her dress was soaked beyond recognition. “Sora, I need a promise.”_

_“I’ll do it, Ichika, what is it?”_

_Sora could not stop his sobbing._

_“This could very well happen again - make sure it doesn’t.”_

_Sora shook his head. “You don’t have to leave us yet, Ichika, we have time to fix this.”_

_“Promise me, Sora, that you will protect the children of our hands. The spirits we create, the spirits they create - you must protect them.”_

_“I will, Ichika.”_

_“This is my fault.”_

_“Close your eyes, Ichika. Find peace and I’ll go to you one day.”_

_“You must promise me, Sora.”_

_“I promise, Ichika.”_

  
  


_No spirit would be able to touch a human without certain death._

_Not ever again._

_-_

_-_

  
  
  


It’s been hours since Sakusa-san had told his story, but it leaves a shiver at the base of Kenma’s spine that he can’t seem to erase. 

No one had been able to tell him whether or not the story had any truth behind it, but something about the open discomfort on Atsumu-sama’s face told Kenma that it wasn’t entirely made up. 

“Do you think that Sora-sama still exists?”

Kenma presses his back up against a tree so he can sit upright. “I wouldn’t know. But if you guys do, then there must be _someone_ that this _Sora_ is based off of.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Kai-sama about it one day, when he’s not busy.”

Kenma still hasn’t seen what Kai-sama looks like. “Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

“If he was real, would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know, what Atsumu-sama said. Spirits have gone to the mountains in the past to try and turn human, but they either came back halfway or they don’t return at all. But, you know. Would you ever risk that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t want me to turn into a human?”

“I want you to stay as Kuroo.”

“I’ll still be Kuroo, even if I’m human.”

“That’s true.”

“Don’t worry about it now, Kenma. I’m not even allowed to sleep by myself yet.”

Kenma finally feels a little bit of that stress from earlier disappear and he lets out a small giggle. “That’s right! Doesn’t Kai-sama make you stay with the other younger spirits?”

“Ew, don’t remind me,” Kuroo says with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Can I ever meet them?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess. Asahi-sama is really nice, but he’s shy so we don’t really see him around. And, uh, Hitoka is a bit younger than us but she’s really cute. She’s just learning how to manifest her wings, actually. I can have you meet them tomorrow if you want.”

There’s a sudden exhaustion that settles into the pit of Kenma’s stomach. 

It sounds fun, but - 

He doesn’t think he’ll have enough energy by tomorrow to do it with a smile on his face. 

“Next time, Kuroo.”

“Okay! Do you want me to walk you back to the entrance?”

Kenma drags himself up and lets out the tiniest of grins. “You know I’d get lost without you.”

“Ha! Yeah, I guess you would!”

-

-

Kenma is eleven years old when he learns the reason why spirits can’t touch humans and develops the slightest hatred for a dead man named Haruto.

* * *

 **The Twelfth** **Year**

Seventh grade isn’t terrible, but the pace certainly gets picked up with the excuse that they need to be prepared for middle school next year. Kenma personally thinks it’s a bunch of bullshit, but studies anyways. 

Between the three of them, it’s obvious that Akaashi has the highest grades, always placing in the top ten. Kenma follows in suit at around twentieth and above, too scared of failure to actually _not_ try. 

And Lev? 

Well. 

Lev is just Lev. 

The three of them are in a library now, quietly working on their own subjects. Akaashi’s quietly going through math problems, while Kenma reads through an introductory lesson book on Japanese Literature. There are tests in both subjects coming up, but they have their respective strengths and weaknesses.

“Guys, are you gonna be done soon?” Lev whispers, creating a cone around his mouth with his hands. “I’m getting bored.”

“Lev, you’re not supposed to be _bored_ , just study your books. As if you’re in the position to turn down extra study time.” Akaashi goes back to his work without so much as a glance towards Lev. 

“Study? For what?”

Kenma looks up. “What are you talking about, Lev?”

“I-I,” Lev grins sheepishly and scratches the back of his head. “I thought we were here to read.”

“We are,” Akaashi says hesitantly. 

Kenma nudges Akaashi’s side. “He meant manga, dummy. He thinks this is playtime or something.”

Akaashi holds up his workbook. “What did you think this was? An algebra superhero? Saving the day with three step multiplication? ”

Kenma tries not to laugh when Lev starts crying and Akaashi’s left dealing with the aftermath of his absolutely brutal comment. 

-

-

“Kenma, you have two minutes to hide, okay? I’m going to count now!”

“Okay!” Kenma shouts, before running off into the forest. He’s agreed to play a couple of rounds of hide and seek with Kuroo, mostly because their other option was to go feed the deer with Sakusa-san and Atsumu-sama and Kenma’s not really a fan of animals. 

He’s not scared of getting lost, because either way, Kuroo’s going to find him. 

Kenma almost laughs to himself when the air whistles through his ever-lengthening hair, and feels his heart bubble with joy once he reaches a small clearing. He pauses and looks around to see if there’s a suitable bush or tree trunk to hide behind when - 

Something shiny catches the corner of Kenma’s eyes, and when he turns around to look at it, he realizes that he can’t tell what it is. 

There’s a shiny piece of fabric snagged onto the top of a tree branch, and the silken strip dances around with the breeze. From here, Kenma can see small black characters that he can’t read, and takes a couple of steps closer to the tree so he can see better. 

It’s still sparkling under the sunlight, and Kenma suddenly gets curious. 

Could it be a part of a ceremonial robe that spirits wore in the past to perform rituals? 

Or, if it belonged to a human, how special were they that they were allowed to venture this deep into the forest? 

Was it a talisman? 

It doesn’t register to Kenma that it’s been more than two minutes. 

With a small grunt, Kenma hoists himself up the tree trunk and starts scaling it, inching close and closer to the silk strip with every passing second. 

It takes a solid three minutes to get up to the branch, and Kenma tests his weight out on it carefully before deeming it thick enough to support him. It’s another two minutes of Kenma trying to gather the courage to just hug the branch and crawl his way to the fabric, but after some careful reaching and prodding, Kenma’s fingers slip around it and Kenma’s left sitting on the branch in victory. 

Except not really, because he looks down and realizes that he’s a lot higher up than he’s thought. 

“Kenma, get down from there! That’s danger-”

Kenma falls. 

Unrelated, but Kenma spends the rest of that summer hobbling around on a broken foot. 

-

-

Kenma is twelve years old when he realizes that maybe he wants to move down to the forest when he’s older and just live here forever. It would be comfortable, he thinks. 

* * *

**The Thirteenth Year**

-

-

_Atsumu’s POV_

_-_

_-_

“Aw, Omi-Omi, but doesn’t it sound fun?”

Sakusa gives him a little scoff and turns his head a bit, loosely clasping his hands behind his back. There’s a little gleam in his eyes that Atsumu doesn’t miss, but Sakusa still frowns nonetheless. 

“Go to the mountains to find a god that no one has reportedly seen in centuries? That even Kai-sama isn’t sure of? That could lead to our potential death? Yeah, no, sure. Lead the way.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, trying to play off the stinging words like a joke. 

Like he always does. 

_Omi-Omi, you love me, right?_

_We promised each other._

_Right?_

Just like always, there’s never an answer. Never something solid, even if it’s just a feeling in his guts. 

Everything with Sakusa has been temporary. 

Surface-level. 

But it’s always okay, because it’s _Sakusa_. 

He’d take table scraps. Dust bunnies. Microscopic sheddings. Anything that Sakusa’s willing to hand over. 

“Omi, it could mean that, you know,” Atsumu feels his tail pop out (it’s hard to control when he gets nervous) and Sakusa’s eyebrows shoot out in mild surprise. “We could be together. Well, more than right now.”

Sakusa goes back to staring at the river gurgling in front of them and shifts his body so he’s sitting with his legs crossed. “Our life is comfortable like this. Kuroo and Kenma are running around behind us as we talk. We have calm lives. This is good. Why are you so insistent these days on ruining it?”

Atsumu loves Sakusa. 

He knows that. 

And he knows that Saskusa loves him back. It’s just, he doesn’t know _to what degree_ . Sakusa has never been the most _expressive_ person - that much is obvious, but he’s never really even heard the words “I love you” from the human before. 

“Are you okay with time?”

Sakusa blinks. “What does that mean?”

“I know I’m aging with you, but it’s only physical. You’ll leave me one day.”

“You knew that from the start.”

“But I love you.”

“I know that. But-”

“I wanna know how you _feel_ , Omi! I wanna know how soft your skin is, I wanna trace your cheekbones out when you laugh, I wanna touch your hair when you wake up because it does the floofy thing and it curls up real nice, and I wanna know what our hands feel like when they’re all tangled up together! I mean, don’t you think it’s about time? Why half-ass this, you know? We’ve already made it this far.”

Sakusa has a hard time hiding his slight grimace. Astumu can’t tell if the red flush creeping up his neck is from embarrassment, shyness, or utter loathing. 

Could be all three. 

“You know, touching is, the reason that I mo-”

“I know, I know, you _stayed with me because you’re not required to touch me to show how you feel about me_. I get it, I get it, I’ve heard it a million times. But you let Kenma touch you hold his hand and he gets to sit in your lap and -”

“God, are you comparing yourself to a _child_ right now? Is that what you want to be to me? Kenma feels like my _kid_ , Atsumu. Do you wanna be my kid?”

“If that’s what it gets for you to just want to _hug_ me, then yeah!”

Atsumu’s initial point gets lost in the matter of seconds and he doesn’t even know where the argument that follows comes from. 

“What is your _problem_ , Atsumu? We’ve never had to argue about this before. This forest is safe to me because I literally cannot be touched by things I don’t want. You know that. Why do you want to become a human so -”

“So that’s it? You _uprooted_ your _life_ , you moved yourself away from _humanity_ , so that you could be ensured of cleanliness? That’s it? Do you love me? W-wait, was I just a _companion_ to you?”

Sakusa’s eyes are stormy, two inky black pools of anger that shoot lasers into Atsumu’s presence. Atsumu refuses to back down; it’s not like he’s in the wrong here. 

How did the conversation get away from them so fast?

“What is it that you want to hear? That I love you the same way you love me?”

_Wow_ , _so that’s what the end of the world feels like_ , Atsumu thinks. He does nothing about the heat building up in his eyelids, which threaten to spill tears any second. 

“You don’t _love me_ , the same way that I love you?”

Sakusa seems to have realized his mistake. 

“Wh-what? No, you know I do! You know I do, that I just don’t like saying it! Come _on_ , ‘Sumu, right now? You’re going to act like a child right now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry for being _childish_ ,” Atsumu spits out in a rough, mocking voice. “It’s just that, the guy I would die to touch just _once_ , to hear him say that he loves me just _once_ , doesn’t feel the same way about me. And he’s treating me like I’m fucking stupid. I’m _real_ sorry about that. Really. Have fun, I guess, because your super childish _lover_ isn’t going to be your super childish lover anymore. He’s probably going to stay super childish because he’s very, _very_ upset right now, but he won’t be your lover. Good enough for you, _Sakusa-san_? He’s very sorry. You’re free to stay in the forest, where nothing can touch you. Have a blast.”

Atsumu pulls a pretty handy spirit skill he has in his pocket and dissipates himself, leaving Sakusa alone on the riverbanks with nothing but himself and his thoughts. 

_There’s always an end_ , Atsumu tells himself as he reforms his figure somewhere further out in the forest (harder to reach). _Just didn’t realize it would be this soon_. 

  
  


-

-

Back to Kenma’s POV

-

-

“Do you have to go?”

Kenma’s voice is thin and shaky, unable to hide the slight fear, sadness, remorse, and loneliness all swirling around him at once. 

In his defense, Sakusa-san dropped this bomb on him and Kuroo like, three seconds ago. 

Sakusa-san smiles rather sadly and Kenma watches with a tingling heart as the usual eye crescents don’t form on the older man’s face. Instead, it looks like his smile is dripping with the weight of uncertainty and desperation that seems to fill him. 

“I made a bad mistake, Kenm -” Sakusa-san catches himself and runs a gentle hand through Kenma’s hair, making sure to press his fingertips into Kenma’s scalp. It’s like he’s trying to mold his presence into him. “Ken-chan. Kenma. My sweet, _sweet_ Kenma. God, I’m so sorry.”

“W-what did you do, Saku-san?” Kenma stutters out. Maybe he can help. Maybe he can do something, _anything_ \- he can’t lose someone else, not after his dad, not after his own self. “I, well, Kuroo and I could go with you!”

Sakusa-san doesn’t bother to hide the thin tear that slips down his face and Kenma can’t help but start crying at that. Sakusa-san pulls Kenma into his body, pressing a hand into Kenma’s back so their embrace remains tight. 

“I’m so sorry, Kenma. But this is a mistake that only I can fix. I hurt the very person I love. I hurt - I hurt Atsumu-sama. And I’m going to fix it, alright? Now, it might take me a very long time to come back, but I’m going to return one day and you have to be waiting here for me, okay? You promise that?”

Sakusa-san pulls away from the hug and Kenma feels so _naked_ , without the protective arms around him like before. 

“Can I give you something?”

Kenma has nothing to give. 

Sakusa-san nods. “I’d be very happy.”

“Kuroo taught me how to make a braided talisman. Can you wear it? So I can protect you from here?”

Kenma holds his hands out and reveals a horrible first attempt at knotting a little talisman together, but Sakusa-san gingerly takes it like it’s a national treasure. 

“I’m going to keep this on me, Kenma, forever. Okay?”

Kuroo, who’s been waiting for his own goodbye, stands awkwardly by himself until Sakusa-san finally turns to him. 

“Now, Ku-chan, I wish I could hug you, but that isn’t the case. So. I made this for us,” Sakusa-san slips something out of his pocket and shows Kenma and Kuroo two bracelets, made of small wooden beads. “It might be big on you now, but you should grow into it. I know you will.”

Sakusa-san helps Kenma clasp it around his wrist and leaves the other one on the grass so Kuroo can take it without risking an accidental touch. Kuroo seems to have no problem adjusting it, and is admiring it within seconds. 

“Thank you, Saku-san!” Kuroo chirps, holding his arm out and admiring the beads with a happy look. “It’s so pretty! I’ve never had jewelry before!”

Sakusa-san lets out an unexpected sob and furiously wipes his eyes. 

“Kenma, come here. Let me hug you one last time.”

Kenma doesn’t waste a second leaping up into Sakusa-san’s arms, and he gets picked up so quickly it feels like he’s flying. He lays there for a second, held to Sakusa-san’s chest and arms wrapped around Sakusa-san’s waist. 

“Kenma,” Sakusa-san whispers gently, hand rhythmically patting his head like the first time they met. “I know you won’t understand what I’m talking about right now, but figure out what Kuroo means to you. Okay? If you’re okay with losing him, if you want to stay here. It’ll be hard. But it’s crucial for your own happiness, okay?”

Kenma looks at Kuroo for a second, who’s watching them with curious eyes. 

He doesn’t know what Sakusa-san is talking about. 

“Okay, I will,” Kenma promises. 

“And life is going to be hard, Kenma. I know you’re getting treatment, but - but illnesses don’t go away quickly. And when it gets hard, just know that I’m forever by your side, alright? Always with you. I’m always with you.”

Kenma nods into Sakusa-san’s neck and breathes in the deep pine scent that he has. 

It feels like it’s going to be his last time doing that. 

Kenma doesn’t want to let go - he knows that if he does, it’s _it_. Somehow, this is it. 

“I love you two very much, you two know that, right? Kenma, Kuroo. You know that?”

“We love you, too!” Kuroo shouts. 

“Love you, Saku-san.” Kenma’s a bit quieter. 

He’s set back down on the ground again and Sakusa-san presses one last, gentle, precious kiss on the crown of Kenma’s head. 

“My name is Sakusa Kiyoomi. But sometimes I go by Omi.”

Sakusa-san is still crying. 

Kenma sniffles and shakes his head. 

_Not yet._

_Don’t leave yet._

_One more day_. 

“Goodbye, Omi-san,” Kenma whispers. 

Sakusa-san disappears, leaving nothing behind but confusing words and two wooden bead bracelets. 

-

-

_Sakusa and Atsumu’s Journey - Sakusa’s POV_

-

-

Sakusa doesn’t look back, not even once, not even a _glance_ , when he leaves Kenma and Kuroo behind him. 

Can’t do it. Won’t. 

Sakusa knows himself. Knows that he’ll just stay if he does, if he sees the absolutely heartbroken Kenma’s wearing, or if he catches sight of the way Kuroo’s gripping the fabric of his robe with tight knuckles. 

Now, he just has to find Atsumu. And Sakusa knows where to go. 

It’s not a far walk to the little clearing by a section of the river more secluded by trees - it’s so hidden that not even Kenma and Kuroo have ventured this far out. 

Sakusa, of course, isn’t given the benefit of the doubt and Atsumu starts speaking even before Sakusa shoves himself through the last of the gnarled up shrubs. Atsumu’s back is facing him, stoic and unmoving. 

“I don’t think we work, Sakusa. I’m too selfish for this.”

Sakusa feels his stomach twist up and jump around inside of him, praying that Atsumu hasn’t jumped to any weird conclusions on his own. 

“I said goodbye to the boys.”

“What are you _doing here,_ Sakusa? You should go back.”

The implications to that last word are endless. 

“I want to go to the mountains with you. Let’s find this Sora. Let’s turn you into a human.”

“Is it worth it? Up until a week ago, I was ready to do anything for you. Live for you, die for you, whatever you wanted. Whatever you needed. You can’t just expect me to forget what you said by springing a surprise trip on me.”

It feels like there are two separate conversations happening at once and Sakusa wishes Atsumu would slow down with his scathing remarks just long enough for him to gather his thoughts. 

“I said _goodbye_ , Atsumu. This isn’t something that I’m taking lightly. I’ve thought about this, and, well, you know me. I’m never impulsive. My brain doesn’t work like that.”

“You think I know you? I’ve been thinking about a lot of things for the past couple of days without a break. And, I’m still lost on what I should feel. What I want to feel. I thought - I, ugh. _Ugh_ . I don’t know. I just know that I still want you. As a lover. As my _person_ . And I wanna be yours. I feel so _stupid_ , Sakusa. I never even talked to you about it. Just assumed like an idiot by myself. All that time we spent together, was that really nothing? Watching the moon under the stars with you every night, watching you set up your little cottage, watching over you while you took naps by the riverbank, watching you smile whenever you had tea with Asahi, watching you teach Kenma how to skip rocks, watching Kuroo fall in love with you like he would a father, watching you tell stories, watching, watching, it’s all I ever _did_. Even after all this time, we’ve never sat down to talk. I don’t even know what you’re thinking. And, as someone who can’t even comfort you with a hug, hasn’t ever offered to listen, do I even have the right to get upset? To get mad, that you haven’t fallen in love with me? You’re an absolute fucking mystery to me, Sakusa Kiyoomi. You should know that.”

Every single word tears a wound into Sakusa’s heart more than the last, over and over and over again until Sakusa thinks he’s going to fall apart at the seams. 

“Stop doing that, shut _up_ , Atsumu! Stop jumping to conclusions when I’m right here. You know I love you! You _know_ that!” Sakusa can’t stop his voice from creeping up the decibel scale, borderline screaming at Atsumu’s back. “You’re right, you fucking asshole. We haven’t _nearly_ talked enough for two people who have spent the last twenty years together. I _know_ that, and I don’t want to regret it, so can’t you see that I’m trying to fix things right now? I know that this problem isn’t going to go away with the blink of an eye. Do you think agreeing to go to the mountains was easy for me? I said goodbye to Kenma and Kuroo and they looked at me like I was already a ghost. Do you get that? That’s what I am to every human I know, Atsumu! A _ghost_ ! I don’t _exist_ anymore, not to anyone who isn’t you! This life that I’ve built, this _home_ here, by your side, it was for you! It was for me, it was for _us_ . Because for some godforsaken reason, _you matter to me_ , more than anyone or anything. Don’t you realize how much it kills me when you say you don’t get it?”

Atsumu finally turns around, the bottom of his robes sweeping against the forest floor but somehow remaining perfectly clean (another trick of his spirit abilities) and stares Sakusa down with an icy glare. 

“Do you think I’d drag you there with me when you sound like you hate me because of the life I’ve built for you?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m saying that you’re worth the trip, that you’re worth giving things up for!”

Atsumu’s sigh is gentle, barely audible over the rush of blood that fills Sakusa’s head. 

“We shouldn’t have to sacrifice so much for each other, Sakusa.”

“You know, I’ve been throwing up these stupidly long sentences to try and explain myself, but I guess I’m not just not good at being metaphorical. So listen to me, Atsumu. Let’s go to the mountains. Let’s find Sora. Let’s turn you human, let’s fix this, let’s talk, let’s” Sakusa says with a steady voice. He’s surprised that his tone is even - a testament to the way his whole body is shaking with little tremors of nervousness. “And then let’s come home together.”

The word “ _home_ ” seems to break something inside Atsumu. 

The spirit cries unabashedly, and there’s no doubt that his tears are mirrored on Sakusa’s own face. 

“You know this means you’re stuck with me forever, right?”

“I think I should be the one saying that, “Sumu.”

“I love you.”

“You dick,” Sakusa breathes out in relief. So they’re good for now. “I love you, too.”

-

-

Getting to the mountains, under any other circumstance, would probably have been impossible for Sakusa to do alone. 

However, that isn’t the case for him and Atsumu fucks around with some kind of spirit magic enough that they get to the mountains in the flash of an eye - Sakusa is literally left blinking in a blinding light and when he opens his eyes again, the two of them are already on the trail up the mountain. 

There’s a lot of unpacking to do. 

“What-” Sakusa tries not to stumble, but the sudden dizziness that overtakes him is hard to ignore. The inside of his mouth is also incredibly dry, for some reason. “What just happened? H-how, uh, how are we here? The river - it, uh, _we_ , uh, were there just a second ago?”

Atsumu holds up a finger before promptly bending over and Sakusa backs away in horror when the spirit throws up some kind of unnatural black gunk that runs out of his mouth like a little stream. 

“ _God_ ,” Atsumu wheezes out, snapping his fingers. A cloth shows up in his hand, and Atsumu wipes down his mouth and chin and coughs a couple of more times for good measure. “I forgot how much that hurts.”

Sakusa’s morbid curiosity still isn’t placated. “Can you - um, _tell me what just happened_ ? How did we just _teleport_ all the way here?”

“I dissipated us,” Atsumu shrugs casually like he didn’t just somehow dissolve Sakusa’s body and had it reform a good spirit-land away. “It used up most of my energy, so I can’t bring us up to the peak; we’ll have to walk. And uh, the side effects can be pretty harsh, so let me know if your stomach starts hurting. I might have put it back wrong.”

“ _You might have put it back wrong?_ ” Sakusa screeches, immediately grabbing his torso with panicked hands. 

Well, it _feels_ like everything’s back in place? 

“Yeah, so just let me know and I’ll fix it,” Sakusa wants to tear the dumb expression off of Atsumu’s face. “Give me a minute, okay? I need to find some energy again.”

So Sakusa stands there, while Atsumu waddles around and absorbs as much energy as he can from the plants he finds. 

Sakusa still isn’t the whole “ _organs might be displaced_ ” thing, though, because that’s just-

That’s just too much for him to ignore. 

He _swears_ he’s missing a gallbladder or _something_ \- there’s no way Atsumu did this right. 

-

-

Two hours walking up the mountain later, and Sakusa is currently ready to cry his eyes out. 

Maybe not _literally_ , but, he doesn’t really blame himself. 

They’ve been walking nonstop and there’s not a single sign of human contact. Not a single carving alongside the mountain trail, not a scrap of loose clothing, _nothing_. Sakusa can’t help but wonder why he was so quick to believe in the legend of Sora. There really was no concrete proof. 

But it’s not like they can turn back right now so Sakusa just keeps walking. (Atsumu still hasn’t gained back the energy he lost transporting the two of them from the riverbanks back home all the way to the mountains. Even if they _do_ need to head back, they’ll be stuck on the mountain for at least a week.)

“Omi, do you see that?”

Atsumu holds out an arm to stop Sakusa in his tracks and focuses his eyes on something far away. 

“What the hell are you looking at,” Sakusa murmurs. “There’s nothing there.”

“No, _look_ , Omi,” Atsumu’s lips are barely moving, and his eyes don’t budge. “The shrubs up ahead. Look into them.”

Sakusa can tell the difference between a joking Atsumu and a serious Atsumu, and he can tell it’s the latter so he squats and puts his hands on his thighs and then _stares ahead into absolyte fucking nothingness but he keeps doing it because Atsumu said -_

_Eyes?_ Sakusa blinks, and then loses focus on what he was looking at. _No, there was definitely something there._

Sakusa quiets himself down and hunts down the eyes he _swears_ he just saw - 

And there they are. 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Sakusa whispers, throat feeling particuarly rough. “ _Atsumu, what is that?_ ”

“Definitely a spirit, Omi, be careful. It’s different - than me. Can’t read it. But don’t worry, okay? Just don’t move.”

_Don’t worry, you want to tell me to not worry?!_ Sakusa screams in his head, unable to form actual words with his mouth. 

“What do you mean, _different_?” Sakusa finally chokes out. 

“Well, these mountains are the source of spirits. If this one’s a mountain spirit, it’s probably really old and has more powers!”

“B-but, don’t you have powers too? Like, make us disappear or something!”

“That’s not a power, Omi! I-I, I mean like, it might be able to use fire or something, _those_ kinds of powers! I don’t know, they’re just stronger than me!”

“You should clarify things like that!” Sakusa hisses out, careful to keep his overall volume down so whatever’s hiding behind the bush doesn’t jump out in surprise. “There’s a really big difference between firepower and _no fire powers_!”

“Yeah, which is why I told you!” Atsumu drops his arm and starts inching forward. Sakusa has to physically bite his hand to keep himself from reaching out and yanking Atsumu backwards. “Just watch, okay?”

“The _hell_ are you doing, you fucking bastard,” Sakusa’s sentence is muffled by te fist that’s still lodged in his mouth. “ _Get back hereI_ ”

“Be quiet, Omi, I know wh-”

“Are you guys scared of me?”

Sakusa and Atsumu let out pretty much the loudest screams they can muster. Atsumu scrambles backwards and Sakusa swears he starts foaming like a rabid dog for a second. 

The spirit from behind the bush steps out, plucking off stray twigs and leaves as it unfurls itself. 

“Hey, a human! That’s cool!”

Sakusa and Atsumu are still frozen. 

The spirit huffs. “Oh, c’mon, I didn’t even do anything! Sorry for hiding like that, but I wasn’t sure if you guys were going to attack me or not. So, why don’t we just start off with simple introductions? I’m Nishi!”

Sakusa finally manages to unroll his eyes and takes a look at the little _kid_ standing in front of him. He _barely_ makes it up to Sakusa’s chest, and it’s probably the foot of spiked hair that even gets him that close. A single strip of blonde hair against brown sticks out like a point, and this child gremlin thing is wearing the _ugliest_ fucking yukata he’s ever seen. It’s obnoxiously orange and black stripes run down the sides and Sakusa’s suddenly very thankful for Atsumu’s own robe.

Atsumu does a quick bow. “Greets, Nishi-sama, I am called Atsumu, and my human companion here is Sakusa. Can I ask if we can aid you in any sort of w-”

“Aw, guys, cut the bullshit,” _Nishi_ says with a chortle. “I’m just here to have fun, lighten up or something! Hey, wanna go find some berries? My buddy Tanaka makes the _best_ sugared strawberries!”

Sakusa sends a glare to the back of Atsumu’s head and shoots him a silent thought. _You made me think we were going to die over this Yu-Gi-Oh ripoff of a child that I feel like would fit in with Kuroo and his friends if given the chance? Atsumu. Wanna know what you are? Dead meat is what you are. Dead fucking meat, I tell you t-_

Sakusa’s internal rambling is cut short when another voice breaks through the air. 

“Hey, hey! Nishi, did you find new friends or something? I sensed two figures but didn’t recognize - hey! Oh _wow_ , is that a _human_?”

Sakusa looks up to meet eyes with a spirit dressed in a simple black yukata, which his shaved head glinting around in the sunlight. 

Atsumu bows again. “Greet-”

Sakusa tunes him out before he throws himself off of the side and down into the ravine. 

-

-

“So, you guys are here to find someone named Sora?”

Nishinoya’s (Nishi’s _real_ name, as it turns out) legs are swinging back and forth from where he’s nestled into a branch on a nearby tree, tongue licking away at the sticky sugar that melted onto him from the candies earlier. Sakusa’s still eating his share of the berry candies, though, working slowly through each one to make sure it doesn’t create a mess. 

(The four of them really did end up hunting berries for about an hour. And just as promised, Tanka whipped up a batch of candied fruits and they tasted too good for Sakusa to come up with a complaint about.)

Atsumu nods and swallows his food. “Yes, Nishi-kun,” Sakusa rolls his eyes at the informal language - of _course_ the two brainless dumbfucks becaome friends. “But, uh, I’m not getting a good feeling by your reaction. Is - is there nobody here by that name?”

Tanaka chomps down on a strawberry and shrugs. “I dunno, what’s he like?”

Sakusa deadpans. _Shouldn’t you be the one providing us with that kind of information?_

“The god of the mountains?” Atsumu says. “He’s the last one. And can turn spirits into humans.”

“Are you talking about _Sawamura?_ ” Nishinoya lets himself fall down the tree and lands on his feet in silence. “His name must’ve gotten messed up in translation. Sawamura’s the one you want. But you want to turn human?”

Tanaka eyes Sakusa for a second before turning to Atsumu. “So is this one of those love stories where you wanna give up your powers for a _human_? That’s a lot to give up for someone else.”

Sakusa’s slightly annoyed at the way the two new spirits have been treating him like a fucking nuisance. It’s nothing horrible, but they spit the word “human” out like a backhanded insult. 

“Yes, it is,” Sakusa says. His voice is about as icy as he can make it. “We can’t be together if Atsumu isn’t a human.”

“Yeah, Sakusa-kun is my lover. This is for us, not just for him.”

Nishinoya shares a look with Tanaka. “Alright, alright. Well, I guess you guys weren’t messing around. Close your eyes for me, the both of you.”

Sakusa doesn’t close his eyes. “What’re you going to do?”

Tanaka laughs teasingly, like he’s making fun of Sakusa for being on edge. Not scared. _On. Edge_. “We’re going to put a palm onto your forehead, okay? And then chant a couple of things. You’ll be knocked out, and the two of us will bring you down to Sawamura’s location. It’s the only way you’ll be able to meet him.”

“You can touch me?” Sakusa whispers. “But I’m a human?”

Nishinoya lets out a whoop of laughter and points to himself. “Uh, super old spirits who have been around for _centuries_ , and are direct descendants of the early gods? Humans have nothing on us! Well, it’s really just Tanaka and I - Sawamura-sama needs someone to do his dirty work, you know?”

Sakusa sees black even before he can attempt to complain. 

-

-

When Sakusa wakes up, he realizes that Atsumu’s already waiting for him. 

They seem to be situated in some kind of large cave, but the floors and walls are clean. Nishinoya and Tanaka are nowhere to be seen, and Sakusa’s skin crawls with the feeling that there’s another presence in the cave with them. 

“Omi-Omi, are you okay?” Atsumu slips the first layer of his yukata off and slides it over to him. “You were shivering and moving around in your sleep. I couldn’t get this on without risking you touching me.”

“Thank you, ‘Sumu,” Sakusa says gently. He takes the robe from the ground and wraps it around himself, and feels the chill leave his body. It’s warm. 

“My, my, aren’t you two cute?”

Sakusa whips his head to the side where the entrance of the cave is. He can’t make out a face yet, but the silhouette is intimidating nonetheless. 

“Are you Sawamura-sama?” Atsumu calls out, leaning forward a bit. “We’re -”

“Atsumu and Sakusa, looking to turn the former into a human, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all.”

Sawamura finally steps out of the shadows and wears nothing but an intricately decorated set of robes and a mirthless grin that makes him look terrifying.

Sakusa feels his shoulders shake, and it’s not because of the cold. 

Sawamura doesn’t look like he’d be intimidating just based on his face, but the impressively muscular build of his torso and slightly murderous glint in his eye says he could mess with someone pretty bad. 

“Can you help?” Atsumu asks, clearly losing every ounce of shame inside of him. 

“Depends,” Sawamura flicks his hand and suddenly disappears, only to reform himself right behind Sakusa. Sakusa slowly turns to face him, wary of the lack of distance between them. Atsumu just watches in worry. “Do you two have anything to offer?”

Sakusa can’t move - Sawamura has lowered himself into a crude squat, leaning back on his calves. He snaps his fingers and in his hand forms a long smoking pipe, the old-fashioned ones from feudal times. A thin trail of smoke leaves the tip and Sakusa tries his very best to not twitch at the scent. 

He’s never been a fan. 

“We love each other,” Sakusa says, trying to ignore the sour taste in his mouth. The uneven tone of his voice doesn’t help, but at least he doesn’t look away. “That’s it.”

Sawamura takes a long drag of the pipe - a bit _too_ long - and then grabs the bottom of Sakusa’s chin to push his face up. 

With a simple scoff, Sawamura pours the smoke out of his mouth and directly into Sakusa’s face. 

Sakusa can’t hold back a cough, and sputters as quietly as he can. 

“Omi!” Atsumu shouts, reaching forward without touching. “Omi, are you okay? H-hey, what did you do that for!”

Sawamura lets out a deep chuckle. 

“This boy _lies_ ,” Sawamura’s voice sharpens and so does his grip on Sakusa’s face. “This boy here is lying, and you want to hand over your spirithood? Seems foolish, my child.”

Sawamura stands back up and tosses the pipe behind him, letting the metal device hit the stone floor of the cave with a loud ping. 

“What are you talking about,” Atsumu demands. “Sawamura-sama, you can’t -”

“Oh, _shut it_ ,” Sawamura says. “Don’t read too much into it, child. I’m merely stating a fact. You and I are aware of how flawed humans are. How measly and weak and _disgusting_ they are.”

Sakusa’s so _confused_ as to what’s going on that he can’t even register enough emotion to be mad. 

_Why is Sawamura acting like this? Who’s Sora, then? Did Sawamura’s name turn into Sora’s over time, just like a game of Telephone? Is Ichika even real_?

“So you’re aware of something,” Sawamura cuts the silence. “You nosy piece of human dirt. Ask me directly if you’re curious. I don’t appreciate you worrying about me in silence.”

“You can read our _thoughts_?” Sakusa has to bite his tongue to not curse, although it’s pretty pointless by now since Sawamura would’ve picked on the fact that he was about to.

“I’m a _god_. There’s very little that I can’t do.”

“Well, then, you just heard everything! Who _are_ you, are you even the person we’re looking for? And if you _can_ read our thoughts, you would know that Atsumu and I aren’t joking around here! We want to _be_ together, we w-”

“If it appeases you, I am Sora. Just another version of him. The Sora you heard of in past legends is long gone - he left with the winds of change when the other gods left. I’m merely half a fragment of his soul. The only one left in the mountains.”

“So there’s more of you?” Atsumu takes a second to try and think of how that _works_ , but gives up halfway through.

“My other half remains in the spirit world. He’s taking care of things back there for me.”

“Stop asking him questions, ‘Sumu,” Sakusa says with a newfound wariness. “Sawamura-sama, the two of us are lowly beings worth nothing to you, two people that you could kill with a snap of your fingers. Any reason why you’re answering our questions all of a sudden? I highly doubt it’s because you think we’re so pure and loveable.”

Sawamura’s eyes narrow. He disappears in a flash of thick smoke. 

Sakusa’s about to stand up when something wraps around his throat, and something else keeps him frozen in place. 

“ _Mpmph!_ ” Sakusa screams, voice muffled by the hand clamped over his mouth. “ _Mpmh, mmph!_ ”

Atsumy scrambles to his feet. “Sakus-”

“You think I can’t smell the disgust rolling off of you?” Sawamura’s voice coming from behind Sakusa confirms that he’s the one who’s got Sakusa in a chokehold. Sakusa watches out of the corner of his eye as one of the god’s arms fly out, causing Atsumu to get lifted by some invisible force and thrown across the cave like a limp rag doll. 

Sakusa watches in horror as Atsumu sails through the air before meeting the back wall with a loud _thump_. His body hits the floor and Sakusa’s crying with how hard he’s trying to free himself of Sawamura’s hands. The hand across his mouth is finally moves, but it repositions itself lower - 

Right across Sakusa’s neck. 

“ _Atsumu_ !” Sakusa screams, his throat burning up against the chokehold. “ _Atsumu_ ! Get up! _Atsumu,_ c’mon, get up!”

It’s a slow process, but Atsumu shifts around enough to lift himself to his knees. 

“The fuck are you doing, Sawamura!” Atsumu roars, hands lifted in the air like a boxer’s. “Let him go!”

Sawamura leans down and places his head right next to Sakusa’s. 

“You’re really in love with this little human?” Sawamura’s sneering - that much, Sakusa can tell. A hand yanks at his hair and forces his neck to bend even further. “You hear that, don’t you? His blood is pounding like crazy. All of that force, in this weak little body. Why don’t you go save yourself, and leave this human behind? Go back home.”

“Get your hands off of him! Let him go, don’t touch him!” Sakusa isn’t too sure what’s going on, but he gets the gist. Atsumu seems like he’s fighting off something invisible - he’s straining against restraints that don’t exist. Sakusa assumes it’s also whatever’s keeping him frozen on his knees, because Sawamura only has one hand around his neck the other one is waving around freely. Must be a god’s power. “Please, p-please, he doesn’t like that, Sawamura-sama, he doesn’t like when you touch him!”

To Sakusa’s surprise, Sawamura seems the slightest bit shocked at Atsumu’s words. 

He’s not too sure why. 

“Save him yourself, then,” Sawamura says. A mist materializes in front of Atsumu and a second later, something that resembles a sword appears in his hands. “But let’s make it fun for me.”

Sakusa can hardly take in another ragged breath when the invisible strings attached to Atsumu bring him forward, stuttering across the floor. It’s clearly Sawamura who’s choosing where to pull him to and Sakusa can’t do anything but stare in horror. 

“Sakusa!” Atsumu sobs, hands grinning the hilt of a glass sword so hard that his hands start to bruise. “Sakusa, get out of the way!”

Atsumu’s screams are so sharp and nauseating and the grip on Sakusa’s throat is just getting tighter and tighter and nothing’s moving but everything’s happening to fast and then Sawamura stops Atsumu a mere second before the tip of the sword is lodged permanently into Atsumu’s stomach. 

“ _Mmph_ ,” Sakusa begs. Sawamura’s fingers are like iron - they don’t give him any respite. “ _Mmph!_ ”

_Let me go!_ Sakusa pleads in his head, knowing that Sawamura can hear him think. _We get it, we get it, humans are stupid, I know! Please, please don’t hurt him. I’ll listen to you - I don’t really have a choice right now. But don’t hurt Atsumu, please, you can’t! You c-_

“Shut up!”

Sakusa flinches inwardly at Sawamura’s voice, since he still can’t lift a finger. The pressure surrounding his chest grows, like it’s trying to suffocate him from the inside out. 

“Sawamura-san, _please_ , I don’t get why you’re doi-”

Atsumu is cut off by Sawamura again. 

“I said, shut _up_ !” Sawamura finally lets go of the delicate flesh that makes up Sakusa’s neck, and stumbles backwards like he’s been shot. Neither Sakusa nor Atsumu can’t move, but the ability to breathe somewhat comfortably is enough for Sakusa. “Stupid human, it’s always you, it’s always your kind! Stupid fucking _humans!_ I should’ve wiped you out when I had the chance! Every last one of you, every single one! God, Shimizu, I’m so sorry, I keep failing you, no matter how hard I try I keep failing you!”

Atsumu jerks forward and the sword is brought dangerously close to Sakusa’s chest. If he breathes hard enough, Sakusa can feel the sharpened tip poke at him. 

“ _Sakusa_ ,” Atsumu whispers softly. His eyes are wet with a million unsplled tears, but his smile is clearer than Sakusa’s ever seen it. “ _Baby_ , I love you. You know that. Right?”

“Love you too,” Sakusa says back. The invisible air grabs hold of Sakusa’s arms and brings them back so he can’t move them. “But stop it, ‘Sumu. We’re not saying goodbye yet.”

“I know,” Atsumu grins even deeper and his shoulders shake with the force of not letting Sawamura’s power push him forward. “I just need you to know that.”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa can’t stop the shiver that erupts throughout his body. The blood inside of him is pumping like crazy throughout his head, and his limbs are numb with shock, but he’s not _scared_. “I’m here. I’m still here. I love you.”

“ _Get mad at him!_ ” Sawamura snaps. “You stupid fucking spirit, get _mad_! Can’t you see that he’s destroyed you? You’re fighting so hard right now, you think I don’t know that? Every second you refuse to let the sword run through him is another second of me breaking your bones and reforming them and breaking them again. Do your job!”

Atsumu slowly picks his head up and turns his head to face Sawamura. 

“I won’t blame anyone but you, Sawamura-sama.”

Sawamura makes that same stupid blank face like earlier and momentarily pauses his angry yelling. 

“Why would you do that?” Sawmura asks simply. 

“Because,” Atsumu says back. “Just because I love him.”

“You _fool_ ,” Sawamura spits out. His arms are up in the air again, and Atsumu lets out another groan when a new wave of power washes over him. “You should listen to someone like me.”

Sakusa shakes his head when Atsumu whimpers. He really can’t help the tip of the sword getting closer at this point, but the desperation to not move keeps him at a standstill for a little bit more. 

“It’s okay, ‘Sumu, you know I don’t blame you. Sawamura’s right. We shouldn’t have played gods. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“N-no,” Atsumu whimpers. “ _Please_ , not like this.”

The tip of the sword finally breaches the robe and Sakusa winces when he feels it poke right above his sternum. 

“Atsumu, I love you.”

“Stop it.”

“I’ve always loved you.”

“ _Sakusa._ ”

“Do you know how pretty you are? Do you know how much I hate myself for not telling you earlier, more, sooner, whatever it is that I didn’t do, I regret it _so much_ , ‘Sumu. God. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve your love.”

“ _Omi!_ Omi, please, _please_ , try and move, try and get away!”

“I am, ‘Sumu, don’t cry, okay? This isn’t going to hurt me.”

Sakusa _knows_. He knows he won’t be able to budge a single hair even if he wanted, not in this state. Not with whatever Sawamura’s controlling him with. 

But Atsumu is crying so hard and it’s Sakusa’s fault and he can’t stop what’s going to happen. 

Sakusa can only tell his skin breaks because Atsumu lets out an inhuman howl and tries to tear his hands off the sword with horrifying tugs. 

The sword doesn’t hurt. 

“Sakusa! _Sakusa Kiyoomi, god,_ god! Please, Sawamura-sama, _please_!”

“C’mon, baby,” Sakusa musters up the sweetest voice he can, knowing that the pet name doesn’t suit him. “ _C’mon_. For me. Don’t cry so hard. You’re killing me.”

Sakusa smiles. 

That was a poor choice of words if there ever was one. 

And then Atsumu drives the sword into Sakusa’s chest with one final push. 

Sakusa sits there, unable to do anything else, while he processes the feeling of glass sliding through his heart. It doesn’t sting, at least, but he’s sure it has something to do with the fact that it’s a magic sword. 

“ _No!_ ” Atsumu’s screams are heartbreaking. Sakusa can’t speak - not with the rush of blood spilling past his lips. “ _No, no, no! Sakusa! Omi! Omi, please, please_ , look at me, look at me! I’m right here, you can’t leave me!”

“I’m looking at you,” Sakusa coughs up a small string of blood and gags when the metallic scent hits his nose. “Only you.”

“Don’t hate me,” Atsumu says. He twists the knife even harder, _pressing_ until Sakusa feels so lightheaded he can’t tell if he’s still conscious. The only thing he’s aware of is the warmth that pools underneath him and the pain coming from Atsumu’s eyes right in front of him. “I need to hug you, Sakusa. Kiss you. Hold your hand. I _need_ to.”

“No,” Sakusa coughs again, more violently than before. “ _No._ ”

Atumu falls forward, right on top of Sakusa. 

Sakusa closes his eyes. 

This is the end for the both of them. 

And he’s too selfish to ask Atsumu to get off of him. 

Atsumu finally seems to be free of whatever influence Sawamra had over him, but Sakusa isn’t. He’s still frozen in place, with Atsumu draped over him, hands pressing and tugging everywhere he can reach. 

“ _Sakusa,_ ” The way Atsumu says his name is heavenly. “ _God,_ you’re too soft everywhere, too cold, and your hair is so nice and look at your eyes, Sakusa, god your _eyes_ , they’re so deep and your skin feels like mine - _fuck_ , is this what it feels like to hold you?”

Atsumu finishes tracing a gentle, chaste path throughout Sakusa’s body and brings his hands up to his cheeks. 

“Atsumu,” Sakusa breathes out, He ignores the blood that bubbles from his lips. “We’re going to find each other again.”

“Yeah,” Atsumu knocks their foreheads together. “We will.”

“Love you, Atsumu.”

Sakusa feels his voice dying. 

“Love you, Sakusa. Omi. My Kiyoomi.”

“I’ll always be your Omi.”

“Next time, I’m never letting you go again, you know that right?”

Sakusa wants to answer. 

So bad. 

So bad that it physically hurts his heart, more than it’s already hurting. 

But the words aren’t forming anymore. 

“Sakusa?” Atsumu’s voice is getting more and more muffled and the weight on Sakusa’s eyelids is too heavy to fight. “You should be smiling right now, this was supposed to work and I’m supposed to be kissing you and this isn’t fair! This isn’t fair, I don’t want a next time! I want _now_ , I _need_ now! Sakusa, please. _Please_ , I love you!”

_Next time, I’ll love you more. Better. Harder._

“Sakusa, please. You’re still with me, right?”

_Always with you, ‘Sumu_.

“Sakusa, answer me!”

_Next time, I promise._

“Sakusa!”

_Next time._

_I’ll answer you next time._

_Just tell me what you need me to say and I’ll say it._

“Sakusa, I love you.”

A quiet sob slips from Atsumu’s mouth and the embrace grows tighter. And then the weakest kiss brushing against Sakusa’s lips, barely enough to even tickle his skin but it’s the last thing that he feels before the light slips from his eyes and the warmth leaves his body. 

Sakusa falls, gently.

-

-

“I can’t do it anymore, Sugawara. Get me out of here. I need to get out. We need to get out. Fuck, _fuck_ , what did I _do_?”

Sakusa groans. _Who the fuck is being so noisy right now? God, I just woke up -_

Wait. 

Wait. 

_Wait a whole fucking second._

Sakusa nearly passes back out. 

_I’m awake?_

Sakusa slowly blinks his vision back and realizes that _fuck, he somehow has his vision back, but that doesn’t make sense because he knows he died. Except how does he know he died, unless he didn’t? But he did. But then he wouldn’t know, so yeah, he didn’t. But Atsumu -_

Atsumu. 

Sakusa jolts up with a sudden tingle in his stomach. 

If he’s somehow alive, then that must mean Ats-

No. 

If Sakusa’s alive because he didn’t bleed out enough, it doesn’t mean Atsumu didn’t disappear after hugging him. 

“You can talk, you know. Your thoughts are giving me a headache to listen to, anyways.”

Sakusa lets out a mangled scream and turns to see who’s talking to him. 

Sawamura. 

He’s sitting on the floor of the cave with his robes in disarray, and a silver-haired man stands next to him. Sawamura’s leaning on the leg of the stranger, who doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. His light blue robes shimmer slightly, casting an angelic glow on his face. 

“I’m not dead?” Sakusa asks, reaching for his chest to see if the wound is there. 

It isn’t. 

“You most definitely are,” Sawamura groans into his hands. “I fucked up.”

“What?”

“Just look behind you.”

Sakusa does, and realizes when Sawamura meant. 

His body is there, on the floor. Drained of blood, eyes closed, hunched over. 

Sakusa looks away before he can see the expression his lifeless face wears. 

That’s enough trauma for today. 

“I’m sorry,” Sakusa half-spits, half-hisses out. “Um, I’m still not following?”

“You are merely just a projection of your soul, sweetie,” Sakusa blinks at the silver-haired stranger and takes a wild guess that it’s another god, if the golden glow surrounding his body hazily is anything to go by. “You can see and hear, but nothing else. Would you like Atsumu with you?”

Sakusa nods instinctively at the name, and when he blinks again, Atsumu’s see-through form appears in front of him in a fit of coughs. 

“Omi!” Atsumu screams. “Omi, god, you’re okay!”

Sakusa can’t feel his hug but something in his chest tightens, even if technically, it can’t. 

“We’re still dead, Atsumu,” Sakusa whispers into Atsumu’s neck. “God, I’m going to tear Sawamura’s head off.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Sawamura grumbles. 

“Yeah, well, murderers don’t get a say in how they’re treated by the dead,” Sakusa glares at Sawamura and tugs Atsumu’s projection closer to him. It’s strange - their touch is physical but Sakusa can’t _feel_ anything. 

“Well, it seems there’s no point in beating around the bush,” The silver-haired man says. “I’m Sugawara. And if it isn’t obvious, I’m Sawamura’s other half. The second fragment of Sora.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says dumbly. “Well, hello. Sir. Sama. Sugawara-sama.”

“And hello to you to, Atsumu.” Sugarwara gives them the sweetest smile Sakusa’s ever seen and nudges Sawamura to start doing something. Sakusa decides he likes Sugawara. Better than Sawamura, at least.

“Well,” Sakusa says with a little wriggle of his fingers. “Are you going to explain anything? Or should we just stand around, staring at each other awkwardly until the end of time? Excuse my rudeness, by the way. I’m just. Still a bit pissed at the whole _getting killed involuntarily_ thing.”

Sugawara giggles and shoves Sawamura away from his leg. “He’d be glad to start, Sakusa-kun.”

Sawamura grips the sides of his head with his hands and refuses to look up. 

“Sorry.”

“For?” Sakusa’s not gonna lie - seeing Sawamura on the floor like this is kind of satisfying. The bitch deserves it. 

“You know, for shortening your lifespan. Or something.”

“Oh, you mean forcing my lover to shove a sword through my body? And then blaming me for it because _you_ had a bad experience with humans like, seven million years ago? Makes sense.”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Sawamura presses on and Sakusa only remains still because Atsumu hugs him tighter. Or, at least he thinks he does. “You have a choice now.”

“Which would be?”

“Either pass in the next world in peace, or reincarnate as a new soul.”

Atsumu doesn’t even give Sakusa a chance to _blink_ before he lets out a hurried, “The second one, the second one! Now!”

“Wait a second, ‘Sumu,” Sakusa leans his head closer into Atsumu’s ears. “There could be some kind of trick.”

“It’s not,” Sawamura’s voice has a strange edge to it - like he’s just _given up_ . His shoulders slump like he’s resigned, and the invisible weight of what he’s done over the course of his lifetime seems to loom over him like a tangible shadow. Sakusa can’t tell whether he wants to feel bad or not. “It’s not a fucking trick. It’s just. I’m leaving with you. Doesn’t matter which choice. I can’t do this anymore. Can’t do it. Fuck. I _can’t_. Not anymore.”

“What would the reincarnation entail? I know humans only have one life.”

Sugawara bows his head a bit before answering. 

“We would make an exception for you two. It was an unfair death. Sawamura is taking responsibility. He’s trading his life for your own. Choose the first one, and the two of you will disappear into the netherworld in peace. Choose the second one, and you two will reincarnate and meet again. It could be a year or ten thousand before you meet again, but fate will bring you together one way or another.”

“But then what happens to the mountains? Or the spirit world?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sugawara says cryptically. “That’s up to me to fix.”

“I want the second one, Omi,” Atsumu whispers so softly that Sakusa almost misses it. “Don’t you? One more chance together with you. Please.”

“You know I couldn’t pick any other choice, ‘Sumu,” Sakusa murmurs back. If he were alive, his heartbeat would be thrumming through his veins.

“The second one it is.” Sugawara sweeps his arm gently through the air and on the cave wall beside them, a stone door appears carved into it.

At this point, Sakusa doesn’t even bat an eye. 

He’s a fucking astral projection right now, for crying out loud. 

“Just give the door a push and it’ll open up for you. It won’t hurt.”

Atsumu grabs Sakusa’s elbow (or at least, Sakusa can _see_ that he does) and runs on over to the door. “Sakusa, this is it! We can - we can be together now. For real this time. We’re going to do it right.”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa watches as the color starts to fade from his skin - he’s starting to grow transparent, too. Their time must be running out. Atsumu’s already pushing the door open, allowing an insane amount of light to flood the muted darkness of a cave. “Do you want to do this with me all over again? I - I, I mean, c’mon. I’ve hurt you. Over and over again and you keep saying that you love me but you _died_ because of me - this whole _mess_ is because of me!”

Sakusa turns around to ask Sugawara if this really will work, but when he looks over his shoulder, the two gods are gone. 

A single white lotus is on the ground where Sawamura had been sitting. 

_Well, they sure dipped fast_. 

“Sakusa,” The seriousness of Atsumu’s voice forces Sakusa to momentarily bite his tongue back. “I don’t really have an idea of how to prove to you that I love you. Just that, when you were dying in front of me, I just couldn’t bear the idea of having to go on without you. Just having you in my arms for that moment, just being able to _feel_ you that close to me, all of it. That was enough to drive me crazy. And now we can do that again, but as humans? We can just keep being with each other? We can just _do_ those things whenever we want? I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to try that. More than anything else.”

“You know,” Sakusa blinks back non-existent tears and waits for Atsumu to stop fiddling around with his hands. “When I died, I promised that if we ever came back somehow, I’d listen to what you wanted.”

“So?”

“So,” Sakusa motions with a shoulder wave to the blinding light in front of them. “Let’s do it. Although I have to say, I’m pretty terrified.”

“Aw, Omi!” Atsumu grins and edges ever so close to the doorway. “Just follow me. We can do this.”

“Still scary.”

“Hey, I love you, Sakusa. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t somehow sure that it was going to work out. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then,” Atsumu takes hold of Sakusa’s hand before leaning in for a quick kiss. Sakusa pretends it doesn’t send shockwaves through him. “What’re we waiting for? We’re running out of time, you know. I can barely see your pretty face.”

“I love you, Atsumu.”

“You know, I believe you and all, but say it without the frown. Stop overthinking it, Omi. We’re going to be fine.”

“Are you ready for this?”

“Born ready.”

“I love you,” Atsumu says as he pulls the two of them into the doorway. Sakusa doesn’t feel anything, but he can tell the light somehow got brighter. He can barely make out Atsumu’s face through the golden haze, but he can imagine the million-dollar grin on the spirit’s face.

“Smile, Sakusa! Smile for me before we go, please!”

Sakusa sighs and decides to fuck it all. 

He smiles. 

As wide and bright and happily as he can. Because he _is_ . A second chance with Atsumu? A chance to repent, a chance to _love_ him again?

What’s there to not smile about? 

Sakusa wishes he could cry because it feels like the right time to. A sudden wind that seems to come _from_ the light starts to pick up around them, whipping through their “soul projections” and nearly tearing their hands apart. Atsumu just holds on tighter. 

He can barely hear his own thinking over the roar of the intensifying gust. Atsumu’s robes start whipping out like the nine tails on a kitsune and he looks more spirit-like than he’s ever looked before.

“I’m smiling for you, ‘Sumu!” 

“You’re smiling for me!”

“I’m scared, Atsumu!”

“Just count to three, okay? And when you open your eyes, I’ll be right there!”

Sakusa refuses to close his eyes and watches as Atsumu starts growing hazier and hazier. 

_Three_. 

“I love you, Sakusa Kiyoomi!”

“I love you more, Atsumu!”

_Two_. 

“Sakusa? You there?”

“Always here.”

“I miss you already, Sa-”

_One_.

-

-

Kenma’s POV

-

-

“Huh.”

Kenma looks up from where he’s been trying to braid another talisman in silence when Kuroo lets out a breath. 

“Huh?” Kenma repeats. “What happened, is something wrong?”

Kuroo drops his string and looks at Kenma with empty eyes. 

“The connection broke.”

“What? Well, I have more string, so-”

“Kenma -” Kuroo starts shaking. “Not the talisman. Atsumu-sama’s spirit. It’s gone.”

Kenma drops his braid. “What?”

“They’re gone.”

“N-no, you’re wrong, Kuroo, try again! You’re wrong! Sakusa-san said he’d come back!”

Kuroo’s about to say something when the forest wails in misery. 

Like a mourning call that comes from within the heart of the woods. 

Kuroo lets a tear silently slip from his eye, still as Kenma stares at the sky in horror. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo whispers. 

“Yeah?” Kenma’s still looking at the clouds, as if he’ll catch sight of Sakusa-san flying overhead with a stupid fox in tow. 

“You can’t leave me like that.”

Kenma doesn’t answer. 

-

-

Kenma is thirteen years old when he realizes the weight of a promise, and what it means to hold onto something that doesn’t hold you back. He’s sad a lot that year.

* * *

**The Fourteenth Year**

Hinata Shouyou is - 

_Breathtaking_. 

Kenma can’t tear his eyes off the way the little tangerine-looking kid soars through the air like he’s stopping all resistance, with his clumsy hands and legs stretched out wide. 

He misses a lot, swinging his arm into emptiness about half the time. 

But Kenma can’t stop watching. 

Did he even feel this way the first time he met Kuroo?

_No_ , Kenma thinks as he watches Hinata fumble another set. _No, I didn’t. This is -_

Passion. 

Overwhelming and all-consuming. 

For the first time in Kenma’s life, he swallows the anxiety that always follows getting his name called onto the rotation and _tries_. He’s suddenly very glad that Akaashi finally got him to go on a training camp expo with him. 

-

-

“I made a new friend this year, Kuroo.”

Kenma sprawls himself out onto the grass and closes his eyes, pretending that the wind carding through his hair is actually Sakusa-san and his gentle fingers. 

It’s not the same. 

This forest is emptier now. 

He wants Sakusa-san back, with his quiet affirmations and vague compliments and rare bouts of laughter when Kuroo didn’t get a joke or Kenma got too dizzy after running up too many hills. 

Kenma even kind of (definitely does) miss Atsumu-sama and his obnoxious laughter and too-large personality and the fact that he always had fun things planned out for everyone. 

So it’s about time, Kenma thinks, that he can admit to himself that he’s somewhat moved on and found a new person.

“Who is it?” Kuroo flops down onto his stomach. “A classmate from school?”

“No. He lives in Miyagi. That’s far away from Tokyo, you know, but we joined the same volleyball program in winter and he’s really nice.”

“Is he a good player?”

“The best. He misses so much, Kuroo, but he doesn’t stop jumping. Just jumps and jumps and it looks like he’s flying if you look hard enough.”

“Is he really that cool?”

Kenma smiles. 

“Yeah. He really is.”

“Cooler than me?” Kuroo giggles into his hands and lets his feet sway around in the air, sandals practically falling off at this point. 

Kenma scrunches up his nose. “By a million points. You’re a dork.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Kuroo, you’re a super-dork. And Hinata is the exact opposite of you.”

“Then who do you like better?”

It’s not a joke anymore - that much is clear. 

Kuroo sits up, gathering the hem of his rob neatly so it doesn’t reveal his undergarments. 

“What?”

“Choose.”

“No, that’s stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re you and Hinata is Hinata.”

“I’m me,” Kuroo says slowly. “And Hinata is human.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah Kenma, you did.”

-

-

Kenma is fourteen years old when he realizes that he doesn’t know what to call the feeling he gets when he sees Hinata because it’s definitely not the same as when he sees Akaashi or Lev or Bokuto. And it’s not the same thing as seeing Kuroo, either. 

* * *

**The Fifteenth Year**

The first year of high school is hellish for a multitude of reasons, but the main one is always dealing with his anxiety. 

It’s not something that ever goes away for Kenma, but the ups and downs are there. He never sinks into it quickly - it’s more like he’s treading water in a murky ocean until he’s just swallowed up by the waves completely. A slow ebb of the tides is what it feels like for him, and Kenma is forced to face the fact that he’s not a kid anymore. 

He can’t get away with pretending that he doesn’t _understand_ it. 

-

-

“Akaashi’s sick.”

Kenma looks up from his PSP and blinks at Bokuto (a presence that just slowly started appearing everywhere Kenma went despite being in different years), who’s currently lounging around on Kenma’s bed like it’s his own house. “Yeah, he is. It’s why he couldn’t hang out today.”

Bokuto frowns with a little huff and rolls his eyes. “I _know_ that, I’m just saying, I feel bad hanging out without him.”

“We could always go visit him,” Lev suggest. Kenma groans as his character dies on screen with a big _Game Over!_ sign popping up. “Oh! Wait, that’s actually not a bad idea! We could get him some porridge from the market and stay with him because he probably can’t move around well right now.”

“I like the way you think!” Bokuto shouts, and scrambles off of the sheets. Kenma bites back his mild annoyance at the way his covers crinkle, and swears to fix it before they leave. “C’mon, Kenma, what do you think?”

“I _think_ we’re going to get yelled at by Keiji,” Kenma says. “But I don’t think you guys are going to let me stay home so I don’t really have a choice now, do I?”

Bokuto grins. “Nope! You don’t!”

“You’re awfully cheery at making me do something.”

“Aw, don’t frown, Ken-kun! I know you’re happy on the inside.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am n-”

“Guys!” Lev shouts, interrping Bokuto and Kenma’s little insilt session. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now!”

Kenma doesn’t say anything on the fact that this was a spontaneous plan so they technically can’t be late for anything. 

-

-

“Thank you for coming,” Akaashi lets out. Kenma scrapes his chair a bit closer to Akaashi’s bed and shakes his head. 

“It’s no problem. Bokuto and Lev are going to be here soon, by the way. They insisted on picking up some ice cream. I kept telling them a sick person couldn’t eat something that cold, but they wouldn’t drop it. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to get some for themselves, to be honest.”

Akaashi laughs roughly, but it turns into a cough pretty quickly. 

“Kenma, you should at least wear a mask right now. You could catch my cold.”

“Don’t have one.”

“You should’ve brought one, stupid.”

“Ha, ha. You’re so funny, Akaashi. Please. Spare me the laughter.”

Akaashi _hmphs_ and pinches Kenma’s arm, but it’s so gentle that t kind of just feels like a cat’s paw poking into him. 

Kenma laughs at the mental comparison. 

The door downstairs rings with the arrival of someone new, and Kenma sighs. “That must be Bo-san and Lev.”

“Can you stay here with me?”

Akaashi grips Kenma’s sleeve, blinking sleepily as the cooling path on his forehead starts to curl up while it dries. Kenma nods silently and peels the patch off. “I’m going to put a new one on you, okay?”

“Thank you,” Akaashi whispers. He closes his eyes as Kenma takes a new patch from the nightstand and presses it gently onto Akaashi’s head. “For coming and helping me.”

“Stupid,” Kenma says with a smile. “Of course I would.”

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence - Akaashi battles an impending nap and Kenma sits there while holding Akaashi’s too-warm hand. 

_Clang!_

Kenma jolts up, and the drowsiness disappears from Akaashi’s eyes. 

“What was that?” Kenma mutters. 

“W-wait, Bokuto-san and Lev are alone right now!”

Kenma groans. “I’m on it.”

-

-

Bokuto and Lev spend the rest of their time at Akaashi’s house mopping up the floor, where they dropped exactly four containers of porridge (they bought _way_ too much) and seven cups of melted ice creams. 

It’s fun for everyone. 

-

-

_Hinata: Kenma! Kenma, Kenma, are you going to your school’s training camps? I know we got invited to join your prefecture again this year, so you have to go, okay?_

Kenma smiles at his phone, always happy to see Shouyou’s name pop up. 

The two of them have amanged to keep steady contact with each other over the last year, texting or calling whenever boredom struck or if Hinata needed help with homework (which was often) or when Kenma felt like the world was just too much. 

_Kenma: hey sho. im going._

_Hinata: You don’t sound excited ! Its our last year in middle school, I can’t believe we’re going to make it big next year!_

_Kenma: ive been practiving harder but everyone else is so good that i dont know if it matters. i know youre going to great, tho._

_Hinata: Just trying your best is all that matters, you know that Kenma!_

_Hinata: You have to room with me again, okay?_

_Kenma: ofc._

_Hinata: Ken, are you tired?_

_Kenma: kind of. sorry. today was rough._

_Hinata: Awe, no! What happened? Do you want to talk about it?_

_Kenma: idk._

_Hinata: u can tell me anything kenma!_

Kenma’s chest tightens up and he buries himself under the covers with a groan. 

He can’t even begin to admit to himself what’s getting him all worked up. 

Doesn’t want to.

-

-

"Akaashi?"

"Yes, Kenma?"

Kenma gets the urge to throw up and the back of his eyelids grow uncomfortably not with unspilled tears. Akaashi definitely notices, but chooses to wait out Kenma’s heavy breathing with a soft look in his eyes.

“Akaashi, I thnk I’m broken.”

The weight that’s been growing in Kenma’s chest over the last couple of years has reached its breaking point. 

It’s a fact in Kenma’s head he can’t deny - no matter how much he stares at himself in the mirror demanding that he goes back to normal, no matter how much he wants to as his mother if it’s okay, no matter how much he’d never act on it - Kenma doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Akaashi just slips onto the bed next to Kenma and gathers him up in a loose hug, but when Kenma starts sobbing with erratic hiccups and a pained whimper, the hug gets impossibly tighter. 

“Whatever it is, you’re not broken, Kenma. You know you aren’t.”

“A-Akaashi,” Kenma stutters. He can’t see anything but the blurry shape of Akaashi’s face in front of him, but it’s better than being alone. “I like boys.”

The silence is gut-wrenching. 

Kenma half-expects for Akaashi to pull away from the hug in a quiet hurry, or maybe even slap Kenma away. 

But nothing happens - Akaashi doesn’t _do_ anything to acknowledge the fact that Kenma just said what he said. 

“I-” Kenma can feel a new wave of cries ready to wash over him, and his shoulders tremble with the delicate tension of being seconds away from breaking down again. “Akaashi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, okay? Just ignore it, I-I, I swear! I-I didn’t mean it! B-boys are - I, that’s n-not what I m-meant - ‘Kaashi, I sw-”

“I like boys, too.”

Kenma stops his sputtering but his breathing is still incredibly raw and uneven, with his chest heaving up and down in a desperate seach for oxygen. 

“What?” Kenma can’t stop the mesmeration in his voice.

“Are you sure you like boys, Kenma? Because sometimes I am and sometimes I’m not.”

Kenma sits up and draws his knees up to his chest. “How are you so casual about this?”

Akaashi sits up as well and shrugs. “Dunno. I just realized it last year. It’s always a guy. That makes me want to be nice to them, more than I normally am. It’s always a guy that I want to hold hands with. Never a girl.”

“But it’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“B-because!” Kenma’s at a loss for words - to actually acknowledge the fact that he did’t like girls had taken upwards of a year. The amount of crying he had hid from his mother, the amount of times he caught himself refusing to eat or sleep because he was so torn up about the fact that he wasn’t _“nomal” -_ it had nearly torn him apart. And to _confide_ in someone else, what he barely wanted to say to himself? That was even harder. But Akaashi’s just _shrugging_ at the fact that he likes boys? _It’s really that simple?_ “Because, you know! We’d get in trouble! We’re supposed to like girls and get married and have kids!”

“Why can’t I just be happy with loving a guy?”

Kenma just stares in awe. 

_Akaashi Keiji really is something else._

Akaashi tilts his head to the side and blinks. “You know what we should do?”

“Wh-what?”

“Kiss.”

“ _H-huh?_ ”

Kenma can barely even register the bewilderment that floods him when Akaashi fucking Keiji tugs at his shirt and brings him in for a kiss. 

Kenma stays frozen, having no idea what to do with his hands, his eyes, his lips - 

But Akaashi holds the kiss for a couple of seconds. It’s a chaste one - just the skin of their lips barely touching. Creating contact more than anything else. 

Akaashi pulls away. “That wasn’t horrible.”

“You just -”

“Sorry for not waiting for an answer. Just knew you’d chicken out,” Akaashi smiles and grazes his bottom lip with his finger. “That didn’t suck.”

Kenma feels his system rebooting. 

“You just kissed me.”

“Did you hate it?”

“Didn’t hate it. Just don’t know what to do with it.”

“Imagine I were a girl. Would you feel different?”

Kenma pictures it. 

He would’ve shoved her off. 

Kenma must be making a pretty bad face, because Akaashi starts laughing. 

“See? You like guys.”

“And you do, too.”

Akaashi nods. “Yeah. I do. I have a crush, you know.”

“Bokuto-san?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“No - just makes sense that it’s him, I guess.”

“What abut you?”

“Can’t say.”

“Liar.”

Kenma flops back down onto the bed and keeps his eyes focused on the lights overhead. 

“Whatever,” Kenma sighs and rubs his swollen eyes. “So this is it?”

“You can talk about it. I’ll listen.”

“I don’t really have anything to say.”

“Well, this was fun.”

Kenma lets out a stupid laugh and allows a comfortable silence fall between the two of them. They lie down, fingers barely touching in a way that just acknowledges their presence to the other. 

Kenma speaks up again. “So it’s really that simple?”

“It’s really that simple.”

-

-

It’s after a short rainfall that Kenma spills his guts to Kuroo. It feels safe, in a sense - gender isn’t really a _thing_ , or, it’s not an _important_ thing for spirits, so there’s only a very small chance that Kuroo would do anything but congratulate Kenma on figuring it out. 

“Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

They’re both soaking wet underneath the canopy of trees overhead, and every step they take to try and get to a dry spot leaves them wetter and wetter. Droplets of rain fall from the outstretched branches and land on the tops of their hand, splattering onto their scalps and their shoulders. 

“I like boys,” Kenma fidgets around with his fingers but refuses to stop walking. He sees Kuroo’s eyes grow wide in his peripheral view, but there’s nothing that expresses disgust. “I tried kissing Akaashi because he said he likes boys too. It felt normal. We didn’t really know what we were doing, though. But, it felt normal.”

“Do you like him?”

Kenma turns around and gives Kuroo a little look. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh. I thought humans only kissed the people they like.”

“You’re supposed to, I guess. But it doesn’t have to be. He likes Bokuto, anyways, that older boy who’s a first year in high school?”

“Do you like someone?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Your voice is kind of off.”

“It’s not.”

-

-

Kenma is fifteen years old when he wishes that he kept his preference a secret from Kuroo. He had been desperate for some kind of validation but the spirit didn’t know enough about humans to give Kenma what he was looking for. 

* * *

**The Sixteenth Year**

Kenma is sixteen when his heart breaks for the first time by a little orange crow. 

“Kenma, Kenma!”

Hinata’s voice is loud over the phone - enough that he doesn’t have to put Hinata on speaker to hear his words. 

“Yes, Sho?”

“You know, I trust you to keep this a secret from everyone else, okay? Because you’re my best friend.”

Best friend. 

_Right_. 

Kenma nearly forget his place for a second. 

“Of course, Sho. You can tell me anything, you know that?”

“Kageyama confessed to me, Ken-Ken! At first, I was all like, _what?_ You know, because he aways called me a little idiot and said he could do better without me and whatever, but we got into a really bad fight and Daichi-san forced us to talk and basically he told me that he liked me and that he was sorry for being so mean and that he didn’t really know how to deal with it! I mean, I didn’t accept it or anything, but I told him to wait until we’re second years and I’ll be ready by then! Isn’t this so cool? I mean, I always liked him but I thought he hated me!”

Kenma drops his phone onto the bed and squeezes his eyes shut before wrapping his arms around himself in a protective ball. 

_So I guess I was too slow, huh?_

_Don’t be stupid, Kenma, you were never even in the running_. 

“Kenma? Are you there?”

Kenma can barely talk through the constriction in his thoat. “Y-yup.”

“Well, anything new with you? I’ve been talking for so long, Ken-Ken, it’s your turn!”

Kenma threads his fingers through his hair and breathes through the pain that aches through his heart. 

“I’m dyeing my hair.”

Hinata laughs through the phone and Kenma commits the sound to memory. 

Hinata’s laugh is so gentle and bubbly and it’s genuine. 

Kenma has to force himself to not tear strands of his hair out. 

Nothing about him is genuine. 

Kageyama is, though - despite the harsh yelling and glares and insults he throws out - he’s anything but fake. He doesn’t hesitate to confront others about their mistakes and takes it out on himself if he messes up. 

Kenma stares at his forearms and traces the greenish-blue path of veins that are packed underneath his skin. 

_Fake._

_Fake._

_Fake!_

Going blonde seems less destructive than his other options. 

-

-

“So it _was_ shrimpy, huh?”

Kenma makes an irked face and huffs. “Don’t call him that, he’s not a shrimp.”

Kuroo lets out an obnoxiously grating laugh and kicks his feet into the stream, sending an open splash of water through the air and onto Kenma’s clothes. “Well, you said he’s short, so.”

“Whatever,” Kenma rubs his arm and sighs when the water starts soaking into his clothes. “And stop being so mean about it. I didn’t even like him that much.”

“Well, if you didn’t like him that much, why’re you so upset?”

“I don’t know! Jeez, Kuroo, I don’t have an answer for everything about myself. Can’t I just feel bad about my crush liking someone else?”

Kuroo huffs and draws his legs in so he can lay down on his back. Kenma just stares at the ripples in the river, distorting his reflection. “Sorry, sorry. I just mean, you’re definitely allowed to be sad but it’s not like it’s the end of the world. You have me!”

“Not the same.”

“Harsh.”

There’s been a lot more akward silences that fiil the gaps of their conversations these days. Kenma doesn’t know whether it’s because they’re starting to grow up so the magic of secrecy is no longer important, or if maybe they’re just too different. 

Kuroo is a lot. 

Even past the fact that he’s a spirit, he’s jus - 

A lot. 

He has the similar larger-than-life personality that Hinata has, but instead of smiling with intense purity, Kuroo’s more filled with mischeif. He wears a perpetual expression of knowing something that Kenma doesn’t, and even after seven years together, Kenma can’t tell if it’s just Kuroo’s face or if he’s doing it on purpose. 

Kenma also realizes that Kuroo’s no longer the clumsy little cat spirit who helped him when he was lost. He’s not clueless anymore. Kuroo’s taller now, stronger, faster, and overall just more grown-into his face. 

Kenma feels like a child next to him. 

The uneasiness of never knowing where he stands with Kuroo, drives Kenma crazy at times. 

They used to promise each other that they’d live together in the forest once Kenma was old enough, like Sakusa-san and Atsumu-sama. 

They used to be in awe of each other. 

But now, Kuroo looks at him too comfortably and the wonder is gone from his eyes. 

-

-

A new spirit named Tsukishima is born. 

Kuroo clings to him an awful lot. 

Kenma goes home early the day he meets the new blond. He’s feeling tired. 

-

-

  
  


Kenma doesn’t go back for a week. 

Watching Kuroo run around and talk to Tsukishima all day had left Kenma feeling excluded and exhausted, because he still had to walk around with them. But he’s feeling bored, all cooped up in his grandfather’s living room, so he gives up his seven day “forest cleanse” and treks back up the hill come Monday morning. 

The sun beats down especially heavily today, and Kenma can’t wait to find some reprieve underneath the shady canopy of trees. Or maybe he’ll dunk his hands into the river. 

Kenma gets to the entrance and steps past it, one foot into the forest. There’s an invisible barrier that the spirits in the forest are connected to - it lets them know if a human has arrived. So, even if Kuroo isn’t waiting for him there, he’ll still come to get Kenma from wherever he is. 

But not today, it seems. 

It usually takes about ten minutes if Kuroo’s not already there, so Kenma waits by sitting in front of a pillar and leaning against it. 

Fifteen minutes tick by with no presence. 

Kenma chews the inside of his lip when he reaches the one hour mark. 

Kenma falls asleep during the second hour. 

Kenma wakes up and checks his watch. 

Four hours. 

Kuroo doesn’t come that day.

-

-

Kenma goes back only one more time. He can’t really seem to find a place next to Kuroo anymore - not with Tsukishima hanging around them. 

To be honest, there’s nothing wrong with Tsukishima. He’s a calm and quiet person, just like Kenma, except maybe he talks a little more. He’s not really keen on being loud, but indulges every one of Kuroo’s wishes nonetheless. 

Kenma sits with Kuroo by the riverbank on his last visit. Tsukishimia isn’t here yet, but Kenma starts a mental countdown on how long it’s going to take until he shows up.

Kuroo’s going off about what he and his beloved _Tsukki_ have been doing lately, and Kenma listens half heartedly. 

“So anyways, I brought him to the orchid grove, right? And get this! Tsuki doesn’t like _flowers_! Can you believe that? They’re so pretty, Kenma! And he said -”

“W-wait, you brought him to the orchid garden?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, why? Do you wanna go, too?”

“What? No, I’m -” Kenma pauses. “I’m just surprised, I guess. I kind of thought that was. You know. Our secret hideout.”

“Oh, right! Well, I mean, Tsukki’s with us now, so, I didn’t think it would matter. Sorry, though. I probably should’ve asked you first.”

“No, it doesn’t matter. It’s not my forest, so.”

Kenma blinks away the heat behind his eyelids and decides to just get his shit off his chest. 

“Kuroo?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’m boring?”

“What? No, of course I don’t!”

“You can tell me to stop coming if you want, you know that, right? I’m not even supposed to hang out with you, anyways.”

“No, what the hell are you talking about? Of course I want to keep hanging out with you! Kenma, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It just seems that you’re fine with just Tsukishima these days, so. I don’t want to interrupt you two.”

“You’re being stupid, Kenma. Tsukki’s just another friend.”

_Just another friend, huh_?

Kenma scoffs at himself. 

Of course he is.

“Sorry for being so _stupid_ , Kuroo.”

“Hey, what’s your deal right now? Don’t get mad at me if you aren’t going to tell me _why_ you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad!”

“Yeah? Well, say that again and don’t yell this time, and maybe I’ll believe you!”

“Shut up, you dickhead!”

“Dickhead? Really, Kenma?”

“Yes, you dickhead, you’re the one telling other people about _our_ secret location! Sorry for getting a _little_ bit mad, okay?”

“Grow up, Kenma, it’s just a flower field! Tsukki didn’t even like it, anyways, so he’s not going to go-”

“Shut up about Tsukishima, why is he the only thing you know how to talk about?”

“Oh _wow_ , Kenma, so you’re mad at me because I made a new friend? As if you didn't talk about Hinata for two summers straight! How do you think I felt? How is this any different?”

“Well, you never said anything so I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t, either!”

“You know that, Kuroo? That’s it. I don’t feel like yelling. It’s making my head hurt, _you’re_ making my head hurt! I’m not coming back, so have fun with your _Tsukki_ , okay? Tell him I said hi.”

Kenma doesn’t even look back once on his way home. 

-

-

Kenma is sixteen when he finds out the true weight of words, and how much he’s been dependent on Kuroo for a fun time. He doesn’t remember how to enjoy anything alone anymore. 

* * *

**The Seventeenth Year**

“I’m moving.”

Kenma, Akaashi, and Bokuto remain frozen in their steps - Kenma’s hands hover above the bag he was packing, Akaashi stands still with a shirt half-pulled over his head, and Bokuto stops in the middle of tying his shoelaces. 

“What?” Akaashi asks, looking at Lev with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean, you’re moving? Is this a joke?”

Lev grips the hem of his shirt and lowers his eyes. 

Kenma drops his uniform shirt onto the floor. 

“I’m not joking, ‘Kaashi,” Lev mumbles. “I’m moving. To Russia. In two weeks, before school starts.”

“Why?” Bokuto asks, eyes drooping with disappointment. “So suddenly? Did something happen?”

“My sister. She got accepted into the Russian National Ballet and my parents don’t want to leave her alone. They made me apply to a private school there.”

“So you’re leaving?” Kenma picks up his shirt and finishes throwing everything together. 

“I’ll miss you guys.”

Lev’s avoiding an obvious answer. 

It must be hurting him, too. 

-

-

Everyone says goodbye to Lev before he jets off for good with a million tears and gifts and promises to call every weekend. 

Turns out, they were all empty and they all lose contact with Lev three months into him moving away. 

  
  
  


-

-

Kenma wonders why everyone is leaving his life these days. 

-

-

Kenma doesn’t return to Ojiichan’s place. He spends his summer away from the forest in favor of visiting his dad. 

Kenma hopes Kuroo misses him. 

-

-

Kenma is seventeen when he discovers that distance is a sad thing. He hates it. 

* * *

**The Eighteenth Year**

“Kenma, Kenma, I need your help! And, I need to tell you something. Oh, whatever, it’s a lot, so just meet me at our usual cafe after school, okay? And make sure Akaashi doesn’t see you! Promise? Bye!”

Bokuto hangs up the phone before Kenma can even get a word in, and he sighs while shoving the device into his pocket before quickly catching up to Akaashi. It’s no use in arguing with Bokuto, anyways, who’d probably call the police on him if Kenma didn’t show up. 

“What was that about?” Akaashi asks, giving Kenma a weird look. 

Kenma scowls at his phone and remembers Bokuto saying Akaashi shouldn’t know. “Some kind of scam. I hung up.”

“Oh,” Akaashi says. “Anyways, did you do the math homework last night? I fell asleep before I could finish the last page.”

“It’s not like you to not finish your homework.”

“Bokuto-san called me last night because he was a bit sad over missing his cross-court shots yesterday, so I spent an hour listening to him rant. It made me sleepy, I guess.”

Kenma snorts. “Of _course_ it was Mr. Lover.‘

“He’s not m-”

“It’s a _joke_ , ‘Kaashi. And yeah, you can copy it during lunch. But give me the literature work.”

“You suck.”

“I’m taking the math homework back.”

-

-

Kenma hurries into the cafe after school, half because it’s fucking freezing outside and half because he really _is_ nervous that Akaashi’s somehow trailing him. Kenma had told Akaashi that he left a book behind so he’d be late, and that Akaashi should just head home first today. It was a stupid excuse, but it worked.

And now, here Kenma is, sitting in front of a jittery-looking Bokuto. 

“Kenma, you made it! Akaashi didn’t follow you, did he?”

“No, don’t worry about it. Can you tell me what this is about quickly, though? I have a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

“You play video games all night, Kenma, that’s not _doing_ something.”

“I can just leave, if you’d like.”

“No, no! Sorry, sorry,” Bokuto wrings his hands out and slaps his face with his palm. The sound of skin striking skin is loud, and Kenma watches in horror as Bokuto starts mumbling words of self motivation out loud to himself. “C’mon, Bo! Just do it, you can do it! Kenma’s nice. Scary, but nice. You can do this. You can do this. You can-”

“God, I’m going to run a fork through your throat, Bokuto! What do you need from me?”

“ _IneedyourhelpconfessingtoAkaashi!_ ”

Kenma blinks. “I didn’t catch even a _single_ word of that.”

“I need your help confessing to Akaashi,” Boktuto’s so red that he almost matches the strawberry smoothie in his hand. Kenma repeats it to himself a couple of times, just to cement the fact that he just heard what he heard. 

“You like Akaashi?”

_Well, isn’t that just perfect, ‘Kaashi? Your crush likes you back! You sure as hell picked one big ass man-baby to like, but, it’s mutual and that’s all that matters, I guess_.

“I mean, how could I not! He’s so, _pretty_ and he compliments me and he listens to me and he lets me do what I want to do and he never says I’m weird and he supports me and he sets for me so well and he has really nice hands and he always holds _my_ hands with _his_ really pretty hands when I’m nervous and he tells me that my hair is cool and he laughs at my jokes and he helps me study for tests which is weird because I’m a grade older but he’s so smart and when he talks it’s like a million butterflies are dancing in my stomach and he’s really good at calming me down and I like calming _him_ down and he’s so cute when he does what I say but I know that it’s really him who controls me because I’m pretty sure I’d die for him and so in conclusion, I love him and I wanna date him and kiss him and hug him and marry him, possibly, and I need your help because I don’t know how to do this!”

Kenma nearly throws himself out the window. 

“Okay, for starters,” Kenma says. “If you ever go off on such a disgusting tangent in front of me again, I’ll end you. Second, what makes you think I know what I’m doing? Just, tell him what you just said and I’m sure he’d say yes.”

“How do you _know_ ,” Bokuto laments. “He’s too pretty to say yes to me!”

“Just trust me.”

“ _Kenma_ , this is my livelihood, you know!”

“It’s not.”

“Kenma!”

“Okay! Fine, _fine_. I can’t really tell you anything more than this, but um. Just. Listen to me, okay? When I say he’d accept you. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d pass out or something if you confessed. Just do it.”

Bokuto’s hands squeeze his cup and Kenma watches with deadpan eyes as the smoothie explodes all over the table, splattering all over the surface and the sides of Bokuto’s face. Kenma bites back a million curses as he wipes down the droplets of beverage that have made their way to his forehead. 

“Bokuto, do you have a death wish or something?” Kenma grabs a handful of napkins from the dispenser and starts wildly scrubbing at the table before they start to get weird looks from the other patrons in the cafe. 

“He likes me?”

Kenma throws the wet wad of napkins down. “Yes, he does, okay? Akaashi _likes_ you. In the sappy, mushy, head-over-heels kind of way. So just confess and maybe _don’t_ make a mess like this when you do?”

“Kenma, you have to help me! I mean, now that I know he likes me, I gotta make a move before someone else does!”

“Yeah. Sounds like a _you_ problem?”

“Kenma!”

“Bokuto.”

“Aw, c’mon, Kenma! Please! I want it to be perfect!”

“No. Because if you mess up then Akaashi’s going to get mad at me, too.”

“I’ll buy you three apple pies a week from your favorite bakery for six months straight.”

“That’s so nice of you.”

“Wait, does this mean you’re going to help? Awe, ye-”

“Make it four.”

“Kenm-”

“And wipe down the table, for fuck’s sake. You’re such a child.”

-

-

Bokuto’s attempts at flirting are so bad that Kenma almost feels bad at demanding pies as a collateral. 

_Almost_. 

But seriously. This man is something _else_. 

“So, ‘Kaashi, uh, you’re gonna eat dinner today?”

Kenma stares at Bokuto, who’s twitching back and forth while talking to Akaashi. _Are you going to eat dinner today? Dude, that’s just sad_. Kenma nearly snickers at his own inner voice. 

“Uh,” Akaashi tilts his head to the side. “Yes, I plan to?”

“With Kenma?”

Kenma hurriedly flicks his eyes back to his phone screen and pretends to be engrossed in his game, even though he’s just tapping blindly into the calculator app. He had agreed to _help_ Bokuto, not - 

Not deal with whatever _“are you going to eat dinner today”_ is. 

“If he’d like to stay over?” Akaashi frowns a bit. “Are you alright? You can just use the bathroom if you need to.”

“I’m f-fine!” Bokuto takes a seat on the floor and wriggles his hands and feet. “Just needed a stretch!”

“Bokuto-san, you’re being weird right now.”

Kenma snorts. “He’s always this weird, ‘Kaashi, you just never notice.”

Akaashi gives Kenma a pointed glare and Kenma shrivels back up into himself. 

“Well, you know,” Bokuto starts again. God, he doesn’t know when to _stop_. “Uh, well, you know, I eat dinner, too! So like, well, then we should all just. Eat dinner. Together.”

Kenma slides the sheet on Akaahi’s bed over his head and covers his face before laughing as silently as he can. He’s sure his shoulders are trembling but dear _lord_ , what the fuck is this? Is Bokuto really trying to _invite himself to dinner with Akaashi?_

“That’s alright with me,” Kenma hears Akaashi say. “Kenma, you’re okay with that too, right?”

Kenma slips his face out and shakes his head. “Sorry, my mom’s home for dinner for the first time in a couple of weeks so I’m eating with her today.”

Akaashi makes a face. 

It’s a lie. 

Bokuto doesn’t know, though, so he gives Kenma a small thumbs up when Akaashi looks away. “Oh, um, well Akaashi, if you’d like, I would still like to eat with you! I can buy us some takeout!”

Akaashi doesn’t tear his eyes off of Kenma, who’s starting to find this embarrassing for Bokuto. “Of course, Bokuto-san. We can order anything you’d like.”

Kenma leaves Akaashi’s house that day with a promise from Akaashi that he’ll die a painful death and a thanks from Bokuto, who’s gleaming from ear to ear. 

-

-

The second attempt at flirting that Kenma witnesses leaves him with a shriveled up dick because it’s an abomination to the very idea of courting someone. 

“Akaashi! Here, look at these flowers I found!”

It’s during a park that this takes place, when Bokuto dragged Akaashi and Kenma out to the local fields to run laps. Kenma had sat down on the first bench he laid eyes on and let Akaashi jog three miles with Bokuto because he was too nice to say that _no, he didn’t want to run three miles_. 

Love is the same as suffering, Kenma realizes. 

Akaashi backs up a bit, and Kenma remembers that his friend has pretty severe pollen allergies. That Bokuto clearly doesn’t know about. 

“Oh, they’re pretty, Bokuto-san.”

“Right?”

Bokuto holds up his flowers, and Kenma nearly spits. It’s the _entire_ flower. 

Roots and everything, with clumps of dirt falling from them. The stalks have been bent with how unintentionally hard Bokuto is gripping them, and Kenma watches with mild disgust as Bokuto keeps trying to get Akaashi to look at them by swinging them around. The dirt flying through the air in little particules doesn’t help, either. 

“Yes, Bokuto-san, um, they’re really nice, but you might be hurting them with how h-“ Akaashi narrows his eyes at the flowers. “Why is there a tag on the stems?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know! I was wondering that, too, but it seems like the other flowers in the garden had them, too, so I guess it’s just -”

“ _Garden_?”

“What? Yeah, garden. I got them there.” Bokuto waves his arm to the general area behind him. 

“Bokuto-san, that’s private property. You just destroyed someone’s garden.”

“Well, it was worth destroying for you, ‘Kaashi?”

“Boktuo-san, please go and explain what happened before you get in trouble.”

Kenma decides that it’s time to injerfect. “I’ll go with you. Bokuto, you really shouldn’t be crossing the park lines, you know? How’d you even get that far, anyways?”

Bokuto throws himself onto Kenma and wails. “I dunno, Ken-Ken, I just saw some pretty flowers!”

Kenma shoves Bokuto’s sweaty arm off of his shoulder. “Oh, let go, you pig.”

“Your words hurt me.”

“Good, that’s the point.‘

“Kenma!”

“Bokuto.”

-

-

Bokuto’s attempts at flirting just start growing worse and worse, and Kenma is left to deal with the aftermath. Whether it’s pulling Bokuto away from the mess or separating Akaashi from whatever’s going to happen next, Kenma’s forced to spend _a lot_ of time making sure Bokuto doesn’t set anything on fire (which he did do, by the way, when he wanted to gift Akaashi a candle and decided to light it up in the middle of the locker room so he could show everyone the scent). 

It’s to the point that Kenma doesn’t get why Bokuto’s so intent on causing so much trouble if he could just get it over with. 

So, Kenma asks. 

“Kou-san, you know it would just be easier for everyone involved if you would just confess. It’s not about how extravagant you make it, it’s about your true feelings. As long as you can get it across to him that you like him, you’re going to be fine.”

“Wow, you must be serious, adding the _san_ and everything,” Bokuto murmurs, almost like he’s trying to skirt the question. 

“That’s not the point.”

“I-I, I know. I just. I’m _scared_ , you know? Akaashi’s rejected every confession up until now. I just feel like I need to be better than everyone else who gave him one.”

“Isn’t him liking you enough? Don’t go overboard, and say what you feel. Don’t beat around the bush, he doesn’t like th-”

Kenma’s cut off by a hand slapped over his mouth, and he has half a mind to bite down on Bokuto’s palm when Bokuto hisses, “Just stay quiet, Kenma! Akaashi’s walking past us!”

Kenma lets out a muffled scream and tries to tear his way out of Bokuto’s death grip, but between the wall and Bokuto’s chest, there’s nowhere for him to run.

Kenma hates it - the stifling feeling of not being able to breathe combined with Bokuto’s overall height and build looming over him - it feels terrifying to Kenma but Bokuto doesn’t get the hint and refuses to move out of the way. 

He settles down and chomps the flesh of Bokuto’s hand as hard as he can. To Bokuto’s credit, he ignores the pain for a solid thirty seconds until Kenma presses his jaw down so hard he might actually break skin. 

“Ow, ow!” Bokuto howls as he snatches his hand away. “Damn, Kenma! Was that really necessary?”

“Uh, was it really necessary for you to cage me in like that? You know I don’t like people touching me!”

“Sorry! I forgot! Kenma, I swear I wasn’t thinking, I just panicked -”

“Yeah, you never think! You never use your fucking brain, Bokuto! Is it empty? Is it there as decoration? Is it there for you to take out and use as a fucking paperweight? You don’t even realize how your flirting is starting to annoy Akaashi! He already _likes_ you, why do you need to be so difficult?”

“Kenma, I’m sorry! Please-”

“Have fun with your stupid _plans_ , because I’m out.”

-

-

_Bokuto: Hey Kenma, I’m really sorry about today. I just saw Akaashi and my head froze._

_Bokuto: I know I made you uncomfortable._

_Bokuto: I swear I didn’t do it on purpose! I just didn’t want him to see us talking about him._

_Bokuto: I bought you a pie. It doesn’t make up for me nearly suffocating you like that but I want to apologize._

_Bokuto: I’ll take your advice seriously this time. I’m going to just ask him out on a date tomorrow. During our free period, by the gate._

_Bokuto: I’m really sorry, Ken-Ken._

_Bokuto: Thank you for helping me, though :)_

Kenma sighs as he scrolls through the flurry of messages. 

He knew Bokuto wasn’t coming out of a bad place. 

_Kenma: ill be there tom. dont mess up, u loser._

-

-

Kenma grunts as he settles himself behind a part of the school gates that jut out to form a little barrier between himself and Bokuto. 

Akaashi’s heading down from the gym building with a confused look on his face, clearly approaching Bokuto with some level of apprehension. 

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greets. Kenma shifts from foot to foot behind the bricks and watches as Bokuto blushes a bit. “Did you need something urgently?”

“Yeah. You.”

Akaashi lets out a little laugh. “That’s very funny, Bokuto-san. What can I help you with?”

“Tell me how I can get you to realize that I like you,” Bokuto breathes out. “I want to go out with you. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to hold hands with you and hug you. And I’ve been trying to think of fancy ways to ask you out, but every time I try, it just ends up with me messing up and making a fool out of myself. So, I’m just going to be honest. Akaashi Keiji. Please go out on a date with me. That’s what I want, and that’s what I hope you want, too.”

Kenma can feel his heartbeat pick up, veins thrumming with the anticipation of a _yes, Bokuto-san_ , to leave Akaashi’s mouth. 

It doesn’t come. 

“Is this a joke?” Akaashi immediately backs away from Bokuto with a hurt look on his face. “Do you think this is funny? How could you be so disloyal! You think I’d betray my best friend like that? Bokuto-san, if this is your attempt at making fun of my crush on you, then I’m going to get extremely mad at you, okay? D-does, does Kenma know you’re doing this? Because, I’ll tell him, you know, and he’ll believe me because I’m his best friend. You traitor!”

Kenma’s body reacts faster than his brain does. “What the hell do I have to do with this?” 

“Kenma!” Akaashi gasps. “Kenma, did you hear that? I’m so sorry, Bokuto-san came up to me and -”

“What?” Kenma cuts him off. “No, I mean, what’re you talking about, with Bokuto being a traitor? Are you crazy? He just confessed to you, shouldn’t you be happy right now?”

“Kenma, your boyfriend just asked me out and you’re mad that I’m not saying yes to him?”

“My _what_?” Kenma screeches. 

“Uh yeah, his _what_?” Bokuto demands. “Akaashi, what’s going on?”

Akaashi stops his screaming and blinks a couple of times. “Wait, what? You two aren’t dating?”

Kenma gags to show his disdain at the mere thought of that. 

“Uh, Akaashi, why would I date Kenma?”

“Because! You two have been glued at the hip these days! And whenever I enter a room Kenma just looks at you funny. And just yesterday, I saw you guys hiding for a, uh, um, a kiss?”

Akaashi’s voice dies out. 

Kenma gags again. “Dude, seriously, stop talking. I was just helping him because he kept failing at flirting with you. And yesterday, Bokuto just didn’t want you to hear us talking about you. About how he should confess. So.”

“Oh,” Akaashi says softly. “ _Oh_.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Well, that was certainly a misunderstanding if there ever was one. I’ll, uh, leave and let you two talk it out or whatever. You better let me know how it goes, ‘Kaashi, or else I’m gonna eat you alive.”

Akaashi doesn’t respond because he’s too busy blushing his way to becoming a tomato. 

-

-

Maybe Kenma _shouldn’t_ have helped Bokuto confess. 

Because he can’t deal with this. 

With PDA being the “this”.

“Bokuto-san, would you like another bite?”

Akaashi holds up a little chocolate with his fingers and Boktuo smiles. He currently has Akaashi on his lap so they’re sitting back to chest, and Bokuto doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle the small of Akaashi’s neck with his nose before responding with a little _yes, please, ‘Kaashi!_

Kenma has to hold down literal vomit when Akaashi blushes and places the chocolate _on Bokuto’s tongue like the fucking whore that he is_ and wishes that physics weren’t so fucking hard. But he needs Akaashi’s help to pass the class, which is why he can’t just run away to bleach his eyes out. 

“Can you guys _not_ do that while I’m here?” Kenma seethes, scribbling down a function on his paper. “I mean, you guys _just_ got together like, two weeks ago. How are you so comfortable already?”

“Because Keiji’s so pretty, that’s why!” Bokuto laughs and places his cheek in the space where Akaashi’s shoulder and neck meet, while Akaashi plays with Bokuto’s fingers.

“Eat shit,” Kenma grumbles. 

“Kenma!” Bokuto whines. 

“Bokuto.”

-

-

“Can you lower the music, Bokuto?” Kenma’s already pissed that his physics grade is struggling to stay alive, and it doesn’t help that Bokuto’s gotten really into loud-ass american music these days. None of them know the lyrics but Bokuto blasts the songs through his phone speakers and clumsily dances his way through Akaashi’s room. 

_I think we could do it if we tried_. 

Kenma wants to chuck Bokuto’s phone down a garbage disposal. Or a hundred-story building. Or down the sewer. 

Bokuto laughs as he takes Akaashi’s hand, leading him in a stupid, half-assed attempt at ballroom dancing. 

_If only to say your mine_. 

Akaashi smiles into a dip, and Bokuto shimmies along the floor with his socked feet to give him more of a slide. Akaashi just giggles as he gets spun and thrown all over the place, nearly crashing into the bed. 

_You and I shouldn’t have to feel like a crime_. 

Kenma slams his book shut and closes his eyes, throwing his head against the desk with a groan. 

A strange image flashes through his head. 

Two people dancing together, just as stupidly as Bokuto and Akaashi. Black and blond hair. 

_Why am I thinking of Sakusa-san and Atsumu-sama_? 

Kenma rubs the wooden bracelet on his wrist. He hasn’t taken it off except for showers in all these years. 

The black-haired person turns around. 

_Kuroo_?

Kenma sits up with a startled shiver and touches his hair - freshly dyed and as yellow as sunlight. 

The other person turns around. 

_Tsukishima?_

Kenma drops the strand he’s been playing with and curls up into a ball. 

_You know I’ll do anything you ask me to_. 

Another set of lyrics that Kenma can’t understand plays and he feels his breath grow short. 

It’s just his imagination. 

Kenma looks up in time to see Bokuto pull Akaashi in by the waist. 

It’s him and Kuroo this time. 

The tense feeling goes away when Tsukishima isn’t in sight. 

Kenma tells himself that he’s being dramatic right now. 

_But oh, my god, I think I’m in love with you_. 

Kenma rushes to the bathroom. Bokuto and Akaashi don’t spare him a second glance, probably assuming he can’t take their cheesiness anymore. Kenma slams the door behind him and sinks to the floor in front of the bathtub, thankful for how cold the porcelain is against his clothed back. 

_No_. 

This isn’t right. 

It’s not supposed to be Kuroo. 

Kenma tucks his head into his arms and attempts to calm himself down by focusing on the music blasting through the walls. He can hear Bokuto’s laughter from here. 

_I don’t want to say goodbye_. 

-

-

  
  


Kenma’s last year in high school feels like a fever dream. 

The reality of becoming adults fills his body with a tension that could snap at any given moment, and Kenma isn’t a fan of feeling so blocked up. 

Figuring out what he wants to do, where he wants to apply, taking his exams - all of it occupies his mind during every waking minute. 

And for every second he’s asleep, Kenma dreams of Kuroo. 

He pretends it’s a coincidence at first - he just _happened_ to picture Kuroo while Bokuto was playing a love song that one time, and his subconscious took that scene and ran with it. 

But it’s harder to deny the more that Kenma tries to ignore it. 

The heart wrenching feeling he gets when he imagines Kuroo and Tsukishima together. 

The giddiness Kenma goes through when Kuroo laughs with him in his dreams. 

The breathlessness he feels when he pretends that Kuroo is saying _I love you_ in hushed whispers right into Kenma’s ears. 

When had it started? 

Kenma stretches a hand out in front of him and wonders how soft Kuroo’s palm would be if he were to touch it. 

Maybe since the moment they met. 

The second Kuroo had shouted out to him. 

Kenma closes his eyes and transports himself back into his memories of when they were younger, running around without a care in the world. Up and down the endless riverbank, with the grass tickling the soles of their feet. 

The time when they wanted to watch the sun go down so Kuroo handed over his robe so Kenma could lie down without getting dirty. 

The time when Kuroo had brought Kenma to his secret orchid grove, a place that even Atsumu-sama and Sakusa-san hadn’t touched. 

The time they spent hours telling stupid stories about their lives when it wasn’t summer. 

The time when Kenma had felt his anxiety get the better of him and Kuroo tried to calm him down by popping his cat ears out. 

The time when they would take naps next to each other, having fallen asleep at the lull of Sakusa-san’s quiet singing. 

The time they discovered that they could hold onto the same object at the same time, as long as their skin wasn’t touching, and decided to spend the whole week connected to each other by a little one-foot stick. 

Kenma wants to feel Kuroo’s skin underneath his fingertips. 

He should’ve gone back last year. 

Should’ve apologized. 

Should’ve seen him once before he has to go. 

-

-

“Ken-chan, are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t know why you’re so insistent on going back to visit Ojiichan. You know you need to prepare for college this summer.”

Kenma flips through a university pamphlet that his mother had handed him and shrugs. “I made friends there. I want the chance to say goodbye at least once.”

“It’s a long journey to get there, and to make it four times?”

“Kaasan-”

“I know, I know. You’re an adult now, you can take care of yourself, I _know_. But I still get to worry about my baby, okay?”

Kenma rolls his eyes but smiles when his mom pats his head gently. “I’ll be okay.”

“Of course you will. No one’s stronger than you.”

“Now that’s just excessive.”

-

-

Kenma’s plan for the summer is a bit more complicated than he had originally planned for, but between having to get situated in his dorms and refusing to miss his chance with Kuroo _again_ , he doesn’t really have another option. 

First, he’ll go down to Ojiichan’s place when summer starts. Halfway through the first month, he’ll head back home and move into his dorm. Then, once orientation week passes, he’ll go back for the last two weeks of summer before returning. He’s never stayed so late down there, as he had always returned with three weeks of summer left, but he’s old enough that his mother doesn’t have to monitor him all the time. 

Kenma keeps a countdown in his head. 

Four months left. 

-

-

Akaashi’s a bit clingy these days, and Kenma one hundred percent blames Bokuto’s absence for this. 

“Do you think he’s eating his meals properly?”

Akaashi sighs and flops down on Kenma’s bed. 

Kenma rolls over in annoyance, but still makes space for Akaashi nonetheless. “Considering the fact that you two send each other photos of every single fucking thing you eat, yeah. I think he’s fine.”

“I don’t know, Kenma, you know he can’t cook.”

“Know it? I’ve _lived_ it,” Kenma shudders when he remembers the one time Bokuto tried his hand at baking because it looked easy enough. He broke his family’s microwave (he didn’t know metal couldn’t go in there) and had to work for three months at a part-time job in a bookstore to pay it off. “Stop worrying, Akaashi. Even if he was having a hard time, he wouldn’t keep it from you, now would he?”

“But how do you _know_ that?”

“Because you two are like the perfect couple? Just, don’t worry about it so much, ‘Kaashi, that’s my job anyways.”

Kenma’s lame attempt at a joke leaves Akaashi as stony as ever. 

_Damn. Not even a single hint of a smile_. 

“Don’t joke about your anxiety like that.”

“I wasn’t -” Kenma lets out an exasperated groan and grabs the closest pillow by his hand so he can scream into it later. “I wasn’t _joking_ about my - Akaashi, that’s not the point. The point is, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating someone a year older than you. As long as you guys keep talking, it should be fine.”

“Do you think Bokuto-san and I can make it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Past college?”

“Sure.”

“Past his career?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think Bokuto-san will continue to want me by his side, Kenma? When he goes pro? When people start to recognize him? Because, you know, I really like him. I _really_ like him. And he’s in my future - no. He _is_ my future. I just don’t know if I’m his.”

“Well, you know, you’re only eighteen, ‘Kaashi. I can’t tell you that you two will last until the end of time but I’m a firm believer that he won’t let you go that easily.”

“How do you know that, Kenma? What if - what if he finds someone better than me? Nicer, smarter, prettier?”

Kenma laughs. 

The genuine kind, where you throw your head back and let your shoulders shake up and down uncontrollably because you can’t move any other part of your body.

“Akaashi,” Kenma says through giggles. He clutches his stomach to try and ease the laughing cramps. “Nicer? Smarter? _Prettier_ ? God, if a human like that existed, I don’t think I could sleep in peace. Keiji, listen to me, okay? I don’t know Bokuto like the back of my hand the way you do, but I know him well enough. He’s simple, Akaashi. No matter how many clouds you want to try and paint over his character, no matter how much you worry about him being surrounded by new people - Bokuto doesn’t lie. Doesn’t have the capacity to. He reads like an open book. You know that. Just trust him. Yeah, I can’t tell you that you guys are gonna live happily ever after for seven decades before dying next to each other or something. But I _do_ know that he’ll keep trying for you, just because that’s who he is. He’s liked you ever since you two met at the training camp. I don’t doubt it for a second that you two were supposed to meet.”

“God,” Akaashi huffs. He reaches his arms out for a hug and despite the brain cells in Kenma’s head begging him not to, Kenma rolls his eyes and pulls Akaashi into his chest. He feels the beads of sweat start to form on the back of his neck at being in such close contact with someone else, but Akaashi needs it. Kenma could probably use a hug, too. “I wish you liked someone. Then I could make _you_ feel stupid for being in love.”

_Who’s saying that I don’t_?

-

-

“Ah-”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Kenma mutters under his breath, already realizing what’s going to happen. 

_AKAAASSHIIIIIII!_ ”

Kenma throws his hands over his ears and waits it out. 

“Bokuto-san!”

Akaashi takes a running start and leaps into the air, and Bokuto is there to catch him. They collide like two stars, and Akaashi’s blush is cringeworthy. Bokuto’s smiling so deep that Kenma thinks his jaw could collapse in on itself if he just tried a bit harder. 

“Akaashi, Akaashi, _Akaashi_ , I missed you, I missed you so much, look, _look_ at you in front of me, god, I missed you! I love you, ‘Kaashi! You missed me too, right? Oh, you smell like home, ‘Kaashi, I missed you!”

Kenma allows their reunion to go on a bit longer, because he’s not _inhuman_. Besides, Akaashi’s bawling so hard right now that he might burst a blood vessel and Kenma would rather stay away from the range of explosion. 

It looks like the two of them might be standing on the platform hugging for all of eternity, but Akaashi finally breaks the hug when Bokuto notices Kenma. 

“Kenma! You came too? Awe, give me a hug!”

Kenma remains still as Bokuto carefully loops an arm around Kenma’s side before pulling away. 

“Hey,” Kenma says lamely. He holds up his duffel bag and gives Bokuto a small smile. “I’m actually headed somewhere, so it was the perfect chance to just see you.”

“Oh, are you going to your Ojiichan’s place again?”

“Yeah. I’m coming back in two weeks, though. And then leaving again for the last two weeks of summer.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of really long train rides,” Bokuto grins. “Have fun, Kenma! Say hi to your friend for me.”

“My friend?”

Akaashi leans his head into Bokuto’s shoulder and scrunches his eyebrows up in confusion. It baffles Kenma’s mind beyond understanding of how he still manages to look so fucking _pretty_ , even with his face all wrinkled up like that. “Uh, yeah, Kuroo? The guy you wouldn’t stop talking about for _years_ straight? Well, I guess besides last summer.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Kenma bites, unable to hide the red flush that he can feel crawl up his neck. “I don’t talk about him that much.”

“Yes, you do!”

“Bokuto, I’m going to throw you into the tracks. Or to the wolves. Actually, no, go back to the train tracks - I’d feel bad for the wolves.”

“Kenma!”

“Bokuto.”

-

-

Kenma waves his grandfather off with a quick goodbye and goes running down the dirt path, all the way up to the pillars. 

It’s hot today. 

The sun beats down ruthlessly on top of Kenma’s shoulders, and he’s thankful that he’s decided to wear a tank top today - the minimal fabric clinging to him keeps him from actually passing out. 

The sweat and heat cling to Kenma’s skin like glue, wrapping him up in an all too-suffocating hug, and Kenma swears the path was never this long before. It feels like he’s been running for a million years, and his knees start to ache with every pounding step he takes. 

_Please be there._

_Please be there._

_Please be there_. 

Kenma hasn’t ever _taken_ anything in his life. 

Not a chance, not a risk, not a hint, not a clue. 

Kenma decides that it’s to just fucking do it. 

-

-

It’s a familiar sight to the trees, probably. 

Kenma’s been sitting by the pillars, in a desperate relief of the sweltering air, while he waits for Kuroo to arrive. 

His presence must’ve been felt - there’s no question about that. A couple of small forest spirits have been poking their heads out of the branches of the forest in front of Kenma. They don’t _do_ anything, but they continue to come and go in hordes as if they’re marvelling him. 

It’s when the sky finally turns purple with nightfall that Kenma decides that _maybe_ , just _maybe_ , Kuroo has given up on him. 

Kenma’s chest feels so tight that it’s hard to breathe - a weight suffocates him and burns against the inside of his skin. A slow flood of fire seems to singe his throat with every attempt at a proper exhale, and Kenma can’t help but let a few tears stutter out. 

Why is it always him? The one left crying in the sunset with nothing but a breaking heart and raw eyes. 

“Kenma?”

Kenma, who has his sobbing head well buried into his arms, refuses to look up. 

A layer of goosebumps erupts down Kenma’s spine and he can’t find the will to respond. 

“Kenma, look at me.”

Kenma turns to face the side, and shakes his head no. 

He hears some rustling and then a thin sigh. 

“I didn’t know it was you, Kenma. I thought it was just some human kid who got too close to the pillars. I would’ve come running if I knew it was you.”

“I’ll just head home for now.”

Kenma freezes up again. 

It’s Tsukishima’s voice. 

He picks his head up fast enough to see Kuroo offer him a smile and a ruffle of his hair. Tsukishima clicks his tongue at the head pat, but still smiles before he goes. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo starts again. “Why are you here?”

It’s like something inside of Kenma breaks, watching Kuroo touch Tsukishima the way he does. 

Every drop of self-restraint, every single voice inside of his head that begs him to just stay quiet, to not shatter anything, to not _ruin_ everything he’s worked to build with Kuroo - 

It leaves his body like a surge of unstoppable electricity, overloading every nerve and setting his heart on fire. 

_This could destroy your friendship with Kuroo,_ Kenma tells himself. 

_This could destroy you_. 

“Can’t it be me?”

“Can _what_ be you?”

“The person you look at like that.”

“I’m not following.”

Kenma’s pulse thrums at the back of his throat and his head feels clearer than it’s been in a while. Like he’s finally somehow moving the dark curtains out of the room that makes up his mind. “The person you look at like they’re the world. I’m okay with having to be second. I know I don’t deserve to be more. But, can’t you just - can’t you just look at me like that, once in a while? It’s okay if you like Tsukishima. I have no right to try and break you two up. But when I come around, just. Can’t you spare me a look or two?”

“Kenma,” Kuroo rolls his name off of his tongue like it’s a forign substance, as if he’s playing with the letters before letting them fall out slowly. “Stop. You know I don’t understand when you circle around your words like that. Tell me what you’re talking about.”

Kenma smiles and wipes his face down, the back of his hands growing damp with spilled tears. The few that slip onto his tongue taste numbingly salty. 

“I love you.”

Kuroo doesn’t respond and Kenma sighs. He turns around, ready to just leave this place for good. He’ll probably bawl his eyes out later, but for now, he just knows one thing.

He tried. 

And that’s all that matters.

“Say it again.”

Kenma stops mid-step. Now it’s _his_ turn to remain silent - _did he hear that right_?

“I said,” Kuroo’s whisper is barely audible over the rhythmic chirping of night insects in the air. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“You don’t get to say something like that while _not_ looking at me. Say it again.”

Kenma turns himself around to face Kuroo with a dramatic spin of his body. “I love you.”

“Like, more than just -” Kuroo chokes over a breath and Kenma watches through watery eyes as Kuroo starts crying on his own. “More than what we were before?”

“Yup.”

“Y-you -” Kuroo manages to stay mildly collected for about three seconds before he explodes. “You cheater! That’s not fair and you know it! You can’t just waltz back in here after disappearing on me for two years! And then tell me that you love me? H-how, how - no, _what_ am I supposed to do? Kenma, you fucking asshole!“

It’s pretty much what Kenma expected to hear, but to have Kuroo stand in front of him and yank out curse after curse - it kind of hurts a bit more than he anticipated. 

“I know I fucked up. And we had an argument that could have easily been solved if I weren’t so petty. I was just stupidly in love with you, Kuroo, this whole time. And I didn’t even realize it until you were missing. So. I’ll leave if you want me to. Or I’ll stay. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. For the rest of my life. I’ll repent for you, Kuroo, so just keep me next to you a bit long-”

“H-huh? W-wait, why would you leave!”

Kenma feels a tiny bit of his intense, soul-crushing sadness get replaced by a single shred of absolute and utter confusion. 

“Uh, w-what?”

“I don’t want you to leave, where’d you get that from?”

“Are you okay? You just called me a _fucking asshole_ and a _cheater_ all while crying and screaming at me! Was I _supposed_ to interpret it a different way?”

Kuroo waves his arms around above his head in a wild manner, blubbering over his words. “U-uh, yes? I-I _mean_ , I love you too, so, why would I want you to leave?”

“You love me?”

“Uh, yes!”

“ _You_ love _me_?”

“Yes! What isn’t clicking?”

“How was I supposed to know that!”

“I mean, I _practically_ just declared my heart to you, so, maybe that?”

“Think about your word choice, you dick! How was I supposed to take that as a _confession_!”

“B-because!” Kuroo says, clearly lacking an argument. “I don’t know, just because!”

“So what does this mean?”

“That we’re in love with each other?”

“But what about Tsukishima?”

“See, now, Kenma, why would you go and ruin it by bringing him up? What the hell does Tsukki have to do with all this?”

_Tsukki._

As expected, the nickname still bites. 

“I don’t know, don’t you love him, too?”

“Like a baby brother, yeah. W-why, do _you_ like him too, or something?”

“No! What the fuck, of course not!”

“Good! And, why do we keep yelling at each other!”

“I don’t know!”

“Let’s stop yelling!”

“You first, loser!”

“Oh, _Kenma_ !” Kuroo exclaims. It’s their cue to just finally take a second, shut up, and let the events of the past two minutes _really_ settle in. 

“That was the lamest way to confess, I think, in the history of ways to confess,” Kenma muses. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I witnessed a better kindergarten marriage proposal last year than whatever the fuck _this_ was.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get as sappy as I wanted to,” Kuroo teases. Kenma feels himself tense up again when Kuroo’s voice drops a couple of pitches. “But Kenma?”

“Yes?”

“You know we have to talk about this, right? It doesn’t matter if we, you know. _Love_ each other. It’s different for us.”

“Why can’t we just leave it at the confession? We can just. I don’t know. Cross the bridge when we get there.”

“Kenma.”

“Bokuto.”

“Who?”

Kenma’s eyes widen when he realizes his mistake. It’s been such a habit to respond to Bokuto calling out to him with just his name that Kenma’s almost conditioned himself to spit out a deadpan _Bokuto_ whenever he hears it. 

“Oh, um, I meant Kuroo. It’s an inside joke I have with a friend.”

“Huh. Wow, I didn’t realize how _annoying_ it would be to hear you say someone else’s name.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo’s eye twitches and Kenma awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “We should talk. A lot. For a while.”

Well. 

Kenma supposes this is the kind of moment one would describe as “failing upwards”. 

-

-

It requires days of endless talks and even more nights spent next to each other, but Kenma finally settles on a plan with Kuroo. 

It would be rash to run away now. 

Kenma still wants to go to college and get a degree. It also helps with generally just not causing a panic because he mysteriously disappeared at the age of eighteen. 

They’ll probably live in Sakusa-san’s old cabin, since it had been built to house a spirit and a human, anyways. It’s open floors and spacious rooms almost guarantee that they won’t come into contact. 

But they face a problem. 

Despite their (extremely passionate and well stated) confessions, Kenma is faced with the reality of being eighteen. And whatever he feels right now for Kuroo, might not last forever.

Imagining a life with no Kuroo seems bleak as all fuck, but to Kenma, it’s still a real possibilty. 

He pushes that to the furthest corner in his mind - 

If it’s ever an issue, they can tackle it when they get there. 

For now, everything’s finally fucking working for once and Kenma doesn’t want to do anything to risk this newfound comfort. 

The two of them are laying down side by side on the grass clearing of their orchid grove, something they’ve done a million times. 

Except now, Kenma’s heart is beating so fast he’s pretty sure Sakusa-san’s dead body (still a bit raw to joke about, to be honest) can hear it from the afterlife. 

“Kenma?”

“Yes, Kuroo?”

“What is it that you like about me?”

“Who knows?” Kenma lets the sunlight from overhead wash over him, and the blades of grass by his face prickle his cheeks. “I just had a feeling from the first time we met that you’d be special. And I guess along the years, I realized it was love. I don’t think I knew how to word it, or how to confirm it until I was older, but it’s nothing complicated. Just. Realized I missed you one day and the thought of you being with Tsukishima instead of me, hurt.”

“What would you be doing if we never met?”

“Who knows? Not lying down here right now, probably.”

“You know, I think I knew I loved you when I first saw you, too. I just. Couldn’t leave that clumsy, dirt-covered kid alone, now could I?”

“Kuroo?”

“Yes, Kenma?”

“Do you ever wish we never met?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“No! No, I’m not saying that I regret meeting you. It’s just, it’s so unfair how we have to live like this. Life was so selfishly stupid, don’t you think?”

“Why?”

“Because. You know, they put you right in front of me and I don’t even get to touch you.”

“You want to?”

“Obviously. Your hands look nice to hold.”

“You know, you look like you're the perfect size to just fit under my arm.”

Kenma lets out an airy giggle and nearly tears up at the thought of just being able to tuck himself away into Kuroo’s side. Maybe it’d be after a hard day of school or something, the type of day where Kenma can barely wrangle himself out of bed. He’d be all cranky and flighty but then he’d come home and Kuroo would just silently open up an arm for Kenma to fall under and he’d just cry a little bit and Kuroo would pat his back until he calmed down and then they’d eat and fall asleep, limbs tangled up past the point of separation. 

It’s such a simple future. 

It’s an impossible one, too. 

Every moment together is like a gem Kenma can’t let go of. 

Every moment together is like a poisonous drink Kenma can’t stop consuming. 

It’s toxic and obvious. 

But it’s _Kuroo_ , so it’s okay. 

_How did Sakusa-san ever manage this?_

-

-

“So, today’s your last day, huh?”

Kenma scrunches up his nose. “I’ll be back for the last two weeks of summer, don’t worry. It’ll be time for me to return in a flash.”

Kuroo crosses his arms and pouts. 

Kenma can’t help but stare at the flex of corded muscle that ripples through Kuroo’s arm. 

_There are moments for thoughts like these, Kenma, get a grip on yourself._

Kenma tucks the image away for later, though. 

_Well, you never know, right_?

Kenma bites back a sigh. Even his subcionsness thinks he’s fucking stupid. 

“It’ll still take forever,” Kuroo whines. “And you have to leave? Things were just getting good!”

Kenma doesn’t point out that _technically_ , things can’t ever really “get good”, since they can’t, well, _touch_. It seems a bit repetitive to remind Kuroo, though, so ultimately Kenma just switches the subject. 

“By the way,” Kenma slips the piece of paper in his pants pocket out. “Is there like, a festival coming up or something? I saw this flying on Ojiichan’s desk.”

Kuroo peers at it before answering. “Oh, yeah. It’s the town’s one hundredth anniversary the week you come back. You know, you should bring a yukata. The spirits are holding their own little thing.”

“You just want to see me in a yukata.”

Kuroo doesn’t even bother to hide the devilish grin in his eyes. 

“Damn. So close.”

Kenma flips him off. 

-

-

Kenma buys a yukata. 

It’s red. 

Kenma kind of wants to die. 

Since when did he turn into _that_ guy?

-

-

“Hey, hey, hey, Kenma, what’s this?”

Kenma looks up from where he’s leafing through an old manga and at Bokuto, who’s dangling off of Akaashi’s bed. 

“What’re you holding, Boukuto? Can’t see from here.”

“This flyer! What’s this festival on it about?”

Kenma puts the manga down. “Oh. The week I go back is the same week as the town’s one hundredth anniversary, apparently. They’re going to hold a seven-day festival. Seems fun.”

“Wait, this is really cool, Kenma! I mean, we live too far to go to places like these!”

“No, just you, Bokuto. Your college is like, hours away from the nearest cities. That’s on you. Wait, speaking of college, why’re you here?”

“To visit my sweetie baby honey boo-boo bear Akaashi, you jealous freak!” Bokuto laughs and grabs Akaashi, who had silently been laying down next to him, right on top of him. Kenma rolls his eyes but can’t help but to agree. 

Yeah. 

He’s jealous. 

He’s never wanted something so bad. 

The casual waist-grabs when they pass by each other, the little pinky-holding moments they share in crowded stores, the simple cheek kisses they give each other when they’re bored. 

Akaashi and Bokuto have everything. 

Kenma refocuses to hear Bokuto mumbling something to Akaashi, who responds with a stern, _no, Bokuto-san, that would be inappropriate_.

“What’s going on?” Kenma asks. “I mean, I’d be happy to leave if you two are trying to fu-”

“You finish that sentence and you’re a dead man walking, Kozume fucking Kenma,” Akaashi hisses. “It was the _festival_ , thank you very much. Bokuto wanted to tag along or something.”

“Awe, don’t say it like that, ‘Kaashi! Now I look rude!”

Kenma smiles and grabs the flyer, staring at the bright red and navy blue ink on the poster. “You know I don’t think you’re rude. Honestly, there are some really nice bed and breakfast inns there, and plus, you know. My Ojiichan could make most of our meals. And you two could meet Kuroo, if he wants. So, yeah. I guess you could _tag along_. If you’d like.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really. You just have to buy a yukata.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I’ve like twenty of them!” 

Kenma stares at Bokuto. “Why do you have - god. Nevermind.”

-

-

The first day back has Kenma feeling all shy and shit, like he wasn’t just here a couple of weeks ago. He mentally apologizes to Bokuto and Akaashi before ditching them at their loding for the next two weeks, slipping out while they're caught up in the payment process so he can make a break for the forest. 

He’s sure to get an earful from Akaashi when he gets back, but. 

That doesn’t matter right now. 

Kuroo’s already waiting for him by the entrance by the time Kenma gets there, all out of breath and sweaty. 

“You made it,” Kuroo says with a little grin. He leans against a pillar and waits for Kenma to regulate his breathing. “Thought I was gonna die, standing here and everything. I hate myself for letting you get away with sitting here waiting for me. Twice. I’ve decided to repent.”

“Well,” Kenma pants. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who should be silent with their thoughts right now.”

“Eh,” Kuroo shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“You’re so _lame_ , oh my god,” Kenma says. He can’t stop smiling. He should stop smiling. But he can’t. “I changed my mind. I was gonna get really pretty for you, Kuroo, like I mean with tied hair and yukata and _cologne_ , but ew. You’re just too lame. Tragic, isn’t it?”

“God, you can’t tell me you have a yukata somewhere at home and not wear it!”

“Watch me.”

“Wearing the yukata? Well, _you got it_ ,” Kuroo smiles. “Get it, get it? _Yukata,_ sounds like _you get it_?”

“I’d make fun of you if it weren’t for the fact that I’m genuinely impressed at how you managed to shove like, seven different meanings into that one pun.”

Kuroo tilts his head. “What’s a _pun?_ ”

“Oh, boy.”

-

-

“I wanna ask you something, Kuroo.”

Kenma leans his back against the tree behind him, and stares down the valley that he’s above. He and Kuroo are sitting on a high hill right now, giving them a full view of the forest below them. 

It’s kind of terrifying. 

“What is it?”

“My two friends came with me. Akaashi and Bokuto. You know, the ones I helped get together?”

“Here?”

“Yeah. They’re at a bed and breakfast inn right now. But um, I was wondering. How would you feel about meeting new people?”

Kenma isn’t looking at Kuroo but he can feel the surprise flooding through the spirit. 

“Oh. Uh. Um, so you want me to meet them?”

“They’re people I would trust the world with, Kuroo. If it’s about being caught, you wouldn’t have to worry about them doing anything. But obviously, you know. If you don’t want to, I wouldn’t bring them over.”

“No! No, it’s just that, um. I just haven’t met a human on purpose in my life, besides Sakusa-san. I just - I don’t know how to act. Would it be alright?”

“You’re still a _person,_ if that’s what you’re trying to get at. You aren’t any different from me. You just - happen to have cat parts and immortality.”

“You’re really okay with them meeting me, Kenma? You know there’s no taking it back.”

“I know. But I trust them.”

“Then on the last day of the festival, why don’t you stop on by with them? Yukatas only.”

“Drop the yukata thing, will you?”

“Never!”

“You’re an embarrassment to society.”

“It doesn’t count since I don’t _live_ in a society.”

“I’m -”

-

-

“Do you have to go back so soon?” 

Kuroo does his puppy eyes, or in this case, his kitten eyes, with the ears and everything, trying to convince Kenma to stay a bit longer. 

“Kuroo, don’t make this such a sad thing every single time. I’m coming back tomorrow. I convinced Akaashi and Bokuto to take up a bunch of days for their dates or something so I’m free.”

“Well, just, um,” Kuroo sighs and throws his hands up into the air. “Ugh, I give up. I’m going to do something, Kenma, and you can’t move, okay?”

“Huh?”

“Just - trust me and say yes. Don’t move. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kenma lets out shakily. 

“Good.”

Kuroo breathes out in concentration all of a sudden, before placing his palms together like a prayer. 

“I’ve been practicing more, Kenma. I’m getting better now.”

Kenma watches wordlessly as Kuroo materializes a traditional wooden cat mask in his hands. It’s the kind Atsumu-sama always had dangling off his neck. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Kenma murmurs. 

“I’m going to put it on you, Kenma, so you really can’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

Kenma stands still and stutters over his breath when Kuroo leans in closer than he’s ever come before, before carefully placing the mask over Kenma’s head. 

“Does it fit?”

Kenma nods once Kuroo steps away. 

“Like a glove.”

“Just keep still for one more second, Kenma.”

Kenma just stays quiet. 

Kuroo comes close again, except this time, his hands are shaking by his sides. 

One hand comes up and presses a finger against the wooden surface of the cat mask, and Kenma watches through a slightly shrouded field of vision as Kuroo takes the time to soak in the image of Kenma wearing the mask. 

Slowly, Kuroo tilts his head down and places a gentle kiss on the wood. 

Kenma struggles to keep the tears in. 

_Why can’t it just be real?_

Kuroo backs away. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that forever, Kenma.”

“Idiot,” Kenma sniffles and holds the side of the mask with one hand, where Kuroo had touched it earlier. “You should’ve done it earlier.”

Kuroo laughs. 

The sound is melancholic. 

-

-

Kuroo and Kenma spend the rest of their week like two star-crossed lovers. 

They go berry picking like two fucking fairies or something. 

Kuroo shows Kenma his new abilities, which range from being able to communicate a bit better with the larger animals in the forest, to manipulating water. 

They talk about nothing and everything. 

Kuroo spends an hour talking about the riverbank’s soil composition and the importance of healthy flowers to the population of butterflies living there. 

Kenma talks about the latest graphics on his favorite video game and how the company really started downgrading once they signed on with a new contractor. 

The two of them fall asleep all over the place, taking short naps to energize them for the day. 

Kenma’s sunkissed all over by the end of the week, since he’s been napping under direct sunlight for the past six days. 

_This is what it was supposed to be like._

_Normal._

_We’re just two people who love each other._

_We’re just two guys who love each other._

_We're just a human and a spirit in love with each other._

_See?_

_Normal._

Kenma looks at Kuroo as he goes on and on about how the cloud formations have been creating some kind of pattern lately. 

This is the life he wants. 

He’s not selfish. 

Kenma just needs this. 

-

-

“So, a couple of rules before I bring you to meet Kuroo,” Kenma says as strictly as he can. “Are you listening, Bokuto?”

“Hey, don’t single me out!”

“Seeing as there’s no one else to single out but you, I’m going to continue,” Kenma holds up a hand so he can put a finger down with every rule. “Rule number one. Kuroo can’t be touched. Seriously this is the biggest and only rule that really matters, okay? Absolutely no touching. No hugging, no _fist-bumps_ , yes, you, Bokuto, _nothing_. Got it?”

Bokuto whimpers. “Not even a tiny little bro-”

“Rule number two,” Kenma says, ignoring Bokuto. “Don’t take pictures. And rule number three. Don’t do anything to hurt the forest.”

“We’re going into a forest?” Akaashi tugs the string to his yukata (it was Bokuto who had convinced Akaashi to wear one, and Kuroo finally caved Kenma) a bit tighter and shivers. “That’s a bit scary, isn’t it?”

“Uh, well, that brings me to my next point, actually.”

Kenma’s throat dries up like the Sahara Desert.

“What is it?” Bokuto drums his hands on the table. 

“Kuroo’s a spirit.”

Akaashi and Bokuto - like any normal people would under the same circumstance - pretend they don’t know what Kenma’s talking about the first time. 

Bokuto gulps. “Uh, did Kenma just say-”

“Yes, he did,” Akaashi says. “I’m not sure what to say back.”

“It’ll make sense when we get there,” Kenma sticks his thumb up to try and look convincing, but he’s pretty sure he looks like a con man right now. “Trust me.”

Akaashi’s eyes look like they’re about to pop right out. 

-

-

“Kenma! You made it! And your friends!”

Kuroo waves at the approaching humans with glee and Kenma breaks out into the tiniest of grins. 

“Yup,” Kenma points to the other two. “This is Akaashi, and this is Bokuto. Guys, this is Kuroo.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Bokuto sticks his hand out.

“Oh, um, you, too! And sorry, but I can’t do handshakes.”

“Oops! Sorry, I totally forgot.” Bokuto sheepishly withdraws his hand. “So, apparently you’re a spirit? That’s some spooky stuff right there! You know, Kenma, you should try a bit harder to come up with pranks - oh.”

Kuroo’s cat ears have popped out. 

Bokuto passes out and Akaashi looks like he’s about to do the same, too. 

-

-

It takes them a while to get the concept that Kuroo’s a spirit, but eventually, Akaashi and Bokuto decide to give up on reason and they indulge themselves in whatever party tricks Kuroo has for them - the little waterbending moves seem to have them pretty floored. 

Kuroo finally seems done with demonstrating his abilities when it’s nightfall, and collapses next to an exhausted Kenma. 

“So, today was really fun!” Bokuto stretches his arms out and readjusts his yukata. “I can’t believe we met a spirit! Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me!”

“Thank you,” Kuroo props himself up on his arm. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’d like to hear about the festival this week, how was it? Kenma was with me the whole time so we couldn’t go down there.”

Bokuto falls back onto the grass with a little holler of excitement. “Dude, it was so _awesome_ ! The food was so pretty, you know, like everything had ice cream or sugar on it and I just ate like, a million of those chocolate banana stands! And all the games, god, there were _hundreds_ ! And they had this, oh, oh! Guys, we need to do that! We need to have a _dance_! With music and everything!”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Didn’t you outgrow being a wannabe ballroom star months ago? Could’ve sworn you said something about stopping your _groove for good_ when you smashed Akaashi’s mirror in a bajillion pieces?”

Kuroo points happily to Bokuto. “I saw we do it, bro!”

“Yes, dude, it’s gonna be so fun!”

“Alright,” Kenma seethes. “Which whore taught him slang words?”

“Don’t look at me,” Akaashi groans. “It was obviously Bokuto, do you even need to ask?”

Kenma shakes his head. “I’m gonna murder him.”

Akaashi and Kenma lie there as Bokuto and Kuroo compile a list of songs together.

The tranquility that washes over the two of them is refreshing. 

“Kenma?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a boyfriend.”

“That is. Correct.”

“And he’s a spirit.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t know which one of those two is more unbelievable.”

“I’m going to flank you alive one of these days, ‘Kaashi.”

-

-

“We did it, we have our songs!” 

Bokuto holds up his phone triumphantly and immediately presses play on it. Kuroo, who’s still unable to comprehend the very idea of what a smartphone is, just stares at Bokuto’s speaker once it starts blasting heavy music. 

The first one is a song that Kenma can tell Bokuto picked out as a joke. It’s a glittery pop song with heavy vocal embellishments and Bokuto teaches Kuroo the steps to the dance. 

The two of them look fucking stupid like that, trying to follow along to a J-pop song in their wooden sandals and traditional robes. Kuroo’s cat mask hangs off his neck and bounces around with every little step. 

“Akaashi, come dance with me!” Bokuto holds his arms out when the song switches and Akaashi gives Kenma a bashful smile before standing up to fall into Bokuto’s arms. 

The swell of jealousy returns again. 

“Kenma, why aren’t you getting up?” Bokuto asks, chin resting gently on Akaashi’s shoulder. “Dance with Kuroo!”

Kuroo looks a bit sad but smiles nonetheless. “At least sway with me, Kenma.”

Kenma feels himself blush out of pure embarrassment, but the feeling is short-lived when he realizes that it’s just the four of them and Bokuto and Akaashi are too absorbed in each other’s eyes to pay attention to anything else.

Kenma tugs at the sleeve of his robe and shivers. “Sorry that we can’t - you know.”

Kuroo takes a careful step closer and brings his head a bit more eye-level to Kenma. “Did I get to the chance to tell you how pretty you looked today?”

“S-shut up.”

“You’d sound a bit more threatening if you weren’t so _nervous_ ,” Kuroo teases. “You like me that much?”

“Yeah, I do, except you’re so stupid that I’m not really sure how it happened.”

“Oh yeah? Well, if it wasn’t my dashing personality, it was probably my even _more_ dashing face.”

“Huh. See, I was thinking the _opposite_ thing, actually?”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, re-”

“Here!” Bokuto screams. 

The moment unfolds over the course of a year. 

A split second gets stretched out over and over again and Kenma can only watch. 

Bokuto just shoved Kuroo. 

Into Kenma. 

They’re touching right now. 

Kuroo’s touching Kenma right now. 

Kenma’s touching Kuroo right now. 

It’s a full second after Kuroo lands on top of Kenma that the two of them realize what just happened. 

“ _Bokuto!_ ” The scream that leaves Kenma’s mouth sounds inhumane. “ _Bokuto, what the fuck did you just do!_ ”

“Hey, don’t yell at him!” Akaashi says, trying to step in between Bokuto and Kuroo. 

“ _You just touched him!_ ” Kenma sobs. 

Kuroo’s still. 

Kenma feels the ends of Kuroo’s hair brushing against the sides of his neck. 

“Yeah, so what! You two were too scared to even dance together, Bokuto-san was just helping! I mean, he shouldn't have shoved so hard, yeah, but Kenm-”

“Akaashi!” Kenma wails, and he wraps his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders. Kuroo’s breathing unevenly all of a sudden, which sends Kenma into another spiral of shell-shocked panic. “He’s a _spirit_ , I told you that you couldn’t touch him because then he’ll _die_!”

Kuroo finally speaks. 

“Kenma.”

Kenma knows he must look horrifying right now, crying so hard that he’s panting for breath. Kuroo stands himself straight again, and grabs hold of Kenma’s arms to force Kenma to hug him tighter. 

“W-wait, r-really?” Bokuto’s no longer confused. 

Kenma feels it happening before he can see it. 

The shoulders that he’s holding onto start to soften. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo whispers. He looks so _gorgeous_ like that, standing still with his head dipped down so he can look right into Kenma’s eyes. Kenma cries even harder when he feels Kuroo’s back start to slowly turn into nothingness. “I’m finally holding you.”

“Idiot!” Kenma sobs. Kuroo hugs him tighter, so much impossibly closer, as if he’s trying to imprint the shape of Kenma’s body into himself. “ _Idiot_!”

“You feel so perfect in my hands like this, you know,” Kuroo laughs and pulls away a bit, but doesn’t let go of Kenma’s hands. “I was right about you being the perfect shape to fit me.”

Kenma watches as more of Kuroo starts turning into little clumps of pure blue light. 

It’s breathtakingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. 

“You can’t leave me, Kuroo.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Dance with me, Kuroo.”

“Of course.”

Kuroo’s fading both takes Kenma in his arms and they stand there carefully, swaying and just trying to memorize every inch of each other. Kenma feels Kuroo push his hair away, and a pair of soft lips press themselves into his forehead. 

“Kenma, can I kiss you?”

Kenma wordlessly turns his face up and Kuroo meets him halfway. 

“I love you, Kenma.”

“Kuroo,” Kenma breathes out. “This isn’t fair. You can’t just leave me like this.” 

“I’m not leaving you. God, you’re so _perfect_ , Kenma. You fit right into my arms, you know that? Fuck. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you, Kuroo, _please,_ just stay a bit longer. _Please_ , don’t leave me. I need you! I finally got you! I can't just _lose_ you again!”

“You’ll never lose me. You never did.”

Kuroo dips Kenma around the grass and Kenma watches as the sun sets the world ablaze for a moment. 

“I don’t want you to go, Kuroo!”

”I’m not leaving, Kenma.”

”Can you keep dancing with me, Kuroo? I’m scared.” 

“Of course, Kenma. Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”

Kenma keeps his eyes wide open and watches as Kuroo seems to look like he’s on fire, with a flurry of gold and red and blue and purple erupting from his back like wings. 

“I love you, Kenma. Always have. Always will.”

_They were so unfair, not letting me touch you._

Kenma shuts his eyes when Kuroo presses another kiss onto Kenma’s lips - so gently, like they’ll both break if he pushes harder. 

“Look at me, Kenma. I love you.”

”I love you, too.”

Kenma opens his eyes when Kuroo’s hug starts to fade. 

Kuroo disappears and takes the world with him. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oops did i forget the angst tag 🙈  
> and did i forget what age they were halfway through the 18 year mark so i forgot to have bokuto confess a year earlier? yes and what about it 😎
> 
> hope you enjoyed! this was tough to write since it was so long and there are def parts i couldve done better but im happy with what i got done. it was a bit sensitive to try and juggle kenma's internal issues so please let me know if i should fix anything and ill edit it!
> 
> besides this, i dont feel like waxing poetic down here in the end notes so goodbye for now!
> 
> find me on insta for requests: kozuchaan


End file.
